


Annie Pines, Armin Yearns

by mea_S



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Annie needs a hug, Armin is bad at feelings, Emotional Hurt, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Falling In Love, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Lots of Crying, M/M, Masturbation, Mutual Pining, Other Ships Not Mentioned in Tags, Slow Burn, and they both suck at feelings, who am i kidding they both need a hug
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-04
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:06:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 22
Words: 89,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23708095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mea_S/pseuds/mea_S
Summary: Armin Arlert and Annie Leonhardt — a peculiar pair of friends.After making a drunken mistake when she's sixteen, Annie avoids Armin for the rest of high school, ending their short friendship. But then college comes around and, somehow, they find themselves acquainted with each other again. They’ve decided to put their past behind them, pursuant in having a healthier friendship between them this time.And for a while, it works — they’re good friends.But then Annie discovers a text on Armin’s phone.And shit hits the fan.(Or, Just a whole ton of mutual pining and angst.)
Relationships: Armin Arlert/Annie Leonhart, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 80
Kudos: 229





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> ***DISCLAIMER**
> 
> This story is going to be a very very VERY slow burn. I mean like, Annie pines for like a good number of chapters and Armin is a stupid flustered mess during those chapters and I understand that that isn't for everyone so if you don't like it then you're welcome to leave. But if you like the angst and discovery and tears and love then this is the story for you!
> 
> Also, this story is spoiler-free. I am a manga reader, but I won't spoil any manga content because it doesn't need to be mentioned in the storyline, so anime-only's can enjoy this story as much as a manga reader can. Tbh, the only person who's from the manga that hasn't been introduced into the anime yet is Gabi, but I only mention her once and I don't say much about her manga-character so don't worry.
> 
> Author's Note 07/16:  
> Okay, so I've decided to leave this story unrated because the ratings vary chapter-by-chapter from T to E. The first slightly _nsfw_ scene will be in chapter 11, but honestly I do not recommend reading this story if you're not comfortable with the mention of sex or masturbation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The initial mistake made that ruined it all

**Prelude ~ 6 Years Ago**

The jarring thud of her head slamming into the door frame resonated within her skull and she winced, bringing a hand up to rub at the sore spot behind her head. Her chest was still rising and falling quickly as she breathed rapidly since she had just been laughing hysterically—something she couldn't exactly find herself doing when she was _sober_ , but hey, the alcohol brought something out in her that normally remained hidden due to her inhibitions.

She blinked once, twice, thrice, confused as hell as to how she ended up hitting the door frame behind her with such force. The impact has her sobriety returning and she slowly raised her head, eyes landing on bright blue eyes that were wide in which it seems are though those beautiful pansy-blue irises have shrunk. The person's face was flushed—maybe it's the alcohol, maybe it's something else—with lips parted in shock and arms up, palms facing the girl.

' _What the hell just happened?'_

She leaned against the doorframe, brows furrowing as she tried to gather her very confused and scattered bearings;

_It was a late Tuesday... or possibly a very early Wednesday morning. The only reason why she's out so late is due to the fact that it was spring break._

_She was at Historia's house (or mansion, as others liked to call it since it was ginormous) and attending Historia's birthday party that included alcohol._

_Just now, she was sipping on probably her fifth cup of alcohol and talking with Armin Arlert inside while everyone else was outside._

_Her name was Annie Leonhardt, she was sixteen years old, and... she just tried to kiss Armin Arlert._

Annie swallowed hard and peered up at the boy. Her body was buzzing and there was a fire in her core. _Shit_. She was on fire. She was infatuated. She was shit-faced drunk. If she were sober, she would have never pressed her lips up against those of the boy who she's known for a total of half a year. But she wasn't sober. She was drunk, so much so in which her head was starting to fucking _spin_.

As she stared at Armin's shocked face, the world that had suddenly frozen around her started to move again and the flame inside her blew out. The sound of partygoers and tunes of some random pop singer player out in the backyard suddenly became loud again. Unfortunately, the sounds weren't louder than Annie's heart which was beating erratically throughout her whole body, making her ears pulsate and turn red at the top.

Armin straightened where he stood, tugging at the hem of his white polo to recover the peeking stripped waistband of his boxers. "Uhm.." His panicked eyes shot to the glass sliding door where everyone was, outside.

Annie then came to her senses. "Oh, whoa. Sorry." She forced an awkward laugh. "I must be really fucked up." She willed herself to rub the remnants of Armin's lips from her own, trying to look like she was grossed out. Her eyes stung.

They've only been friends for 6 months and they only started to get really close in the previous two. She was becoming infatuated with him, but she was okay with letting her feelings remain labeled as a little crush that she'd get over in a couple of weeks. Why did she have to ruin it by fucking kissing him at a high school party?!

She shrugged and tried to make it seem like what had happened was a minor occurrence, but it was now when she noticed that she had somehow managed to drop her cup in all of this and the substance inside her red solo cup had begun to seep into the carpet. Somehow, seeing this made her eyes sting more and her head was suddenly throbbing.

"God, I think I'll just go home... I'm... I feel sick." She muttered.

She looked at Armin to see that he truly did _look_ sick. She wanted to cry. Was kissing her that bad? So bad in which he felt the urge to vomit right after?

She didn't say anything before walking past him towards the front door, stumbling as she surged forward, slipped her sneakers on, and opened the front door.

"I-I hope you feel better!" Armin managed to get out, but Annie was already stepping outside and shutting the door behind her as he finished.

She walked the streets and bawled like a baby. It was over. Everything was over. Their friendship was over.

Passing by the neighborhood lake, she considered throwing herself in. She stopped and stared at the streetlights reflecting in the still water. But she reconsidered quickly because the thought of water filling her lungs until she could no longer breathe or see of feel was seriously scary, so she instead sat down at the edge continued to sob. She couldn't go home because there was no way in hell she would get past her father like this, so she instead reached into her jean pocket to reach for her phone when—shit—she turned back and looked down the road she had just walked upon when she realized that she had left all her belongings inside.

She should go back and... no, _no_ she couldn't go back.

So instead, she continued to look back down at the water with a frown, unshed tears blurring her sight. Her chest ached painfully. It shouldn't hurt this much, she's only infatuated with him... but why did it feel like the world just rushed up at her out of nowhere? Why did it feel like the sky had become the sea and the ground became the sky, but she didn't rotate with the world so she was left dizzy and flipping eternally? Why did it hurt so much?

She let out an aching cry and hugged her legs up to her chest, tucked her chin under her knees, and cried against her jeans.

"Why... why does it hurt so much?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was really short, but don't worry, the other's will be longer. I just wanted to clarify a few more things before you go on which is that this story mentions masturbation a few times which isn't that bad when you think about it (be honest with yourself, a lot of people do it), and there is a lot of profanity. So just... brace yourself... emotionally.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Annie sees a text she wasn't supposed to see

**6 Years Later | Present Day**

Annie leans her head against the fence of the courtyard.

This day, so far, has been exhausting. Well, not really— _last_ _night_ was exhausting, because Annie has spent the entirety of it working on a project she had procrastinated on for way too long, thus resulting in her exhaustion today. She thinks she’s inhaled maybe three cups of a coffee by now, which is three more than usual ( _she doesn't really life coffee_ ), and now she's groaning and wishing she were home.

"Two hours. Just two more fucking hours..." she utters to herself. She’s tired, she has a headache, and she feels nauseous from the all-nighter she pulled. Gee, she sure feels _great_.

There's a tiny snicker from beside her and she turns to see a male approaching her, his hair similar to Annie’s in color with a backpack slung over one of his shoulders as he holds a tiny, white baggie.

"You look terrible," he teases lightly as he sits down beside her on the bench by the fence. He takes off his backpack swiftly and drops it by his feet right next to hers.

"Gee, thanks," she groans in response, watching as he digs into the white bag and taking out a foot long, sub-sandwich. She wants to puke at the sight of it—just _looking_ at any type of food has her nausea swelling.

"What's up? Didn't sleep well last night?" The male asks, unwrapping his sandwich and taking a generous bite out of it which has sauce smearing onto the edges of his lips. His tongue darts out and he licks the mixture of sauces away.

"Didn't sleep at _all_ last night." Annie closes her eyes and lets her arms fall nimbly to her sides.

"Yikes. Why? Were you working on that project that I told you to start on?"

Annie opens her eyes just to glare at the male before she pokes his side which has him giggling. "Not funny, Arlert."

"What? I told you to work on it, didn't I?"

Annie pouts, but doesn't retort as she raises her hands before she just drags them down the length of her face. She really can't retaliate because he's right—he _did_ tell her to work on it when they had been facetiming the other day, but she shrugged his offer away and continued to speak with him until they fell asleep—so she can't really retort, but she can at least glare.

"Gosh, I just want this day to be over." She rolls over on the bench to lean her side against the fence, her body facing Armin's. She spares herself the neck-pain of having to crane her neck just to look at his face with her leaning in such a position by just closing her eyes again and sighing.

"You can go home sick, ya'know? You already turned in your project, didn't you?" Armin suggests as he takes another bite out of his sandwich.

"Yeah, but I have a fucking exam for my last period which I can't skip," Annie replies dejectedly.

Armin takes another bite out of his sandwich, "well, there's only two hours left. You'll survive," he says around a mouthful of bread, meat, cheese, lettuce, tomatoes, and bunch of random sauces.

Annie sighs again before peeling her eyelids open and peering up at Armin. Seeing him from this angle has her feeling smaller than she already is compared next to him, and she watches as he continues to eat his sandwich, his tongue making the occasional appearance to lick away at any sauces that smears on his lips. When he's done, he licks his lips clean of any crumbs which has Annie's heart skipping a certain beat, so she shuts her eyes quickly and inhales slowly.

She's 22 now, being older than she was when she was sixteen and started to experience feelings unbeknownst to her towards Armin, but those feelings eventually died away when she pointedly avoided him. For six years, she went out of her way to avoid Armin whenever she'd spot him, leaving those feelings with nothing to do but rot in her stomach before it was just nothing.

And if she's being completely honest, she was planning on that being the end to that story: she and Armin became friends when she was sixteen and he was fifteen, she made a drunk mistake and kissed him, they avoided each other ( _or rather,_ she _avoid_ him _and he had no choice but so to the same_ ) after that and were to never speak again. No, it didn't sound _ideal,_ but her mind was pretty convinced that story was over; a closed book placed back in the bookshelves amongst others, never to be thought about again and never to be read again.

Alas, life had different plans in stored for her and she found herself attending a college which none of _her friends_ attended ( _not that she had many friends to begin with_ ) and Armin was in a similar situation to hers. Events occurred and Armin and Annie kept running into each other and, upon getting sick of the awkward 'hello's they exchange during class or lunch or simply passing by the hall, she decided that she was over her stupid mistake because that's all it was—a mistake.

And everybody makes mistakes.

So once day, she forced herself to approach him during lunch where he was eating in the courtyard—where he always ate at—and talk to him. Not about the kiss—God, no, _not_ about the kiss, but about other topics, and it soon became routine for them. One would join the other in the courtyard and they would talk before they one day decided to exchange numbers and their relationship ( _no, not relationship—well, not_ that _type of relationship, anyway, but just a friendship_ ) progressed from there.

They're only friends. It's just friendship. A reigniting of something that had faded out over time. Armin probably has somebody who he loves that he has yet to reveal to Annie yet, and Annie will eventually find some random guy to start crushing on too. They're just friends. Only friends. Strictly platonic.

So Annie can't help but feel surprised whenever her heart would skip a beat like this by simply _thinking_ about him. It's just the remnants of her previous infatuation with him though... maybe... probably.. _hopefully—_ but she's still _surprised_ by it.

Just because you know when something's going to happen doesn't mean that it still doesn't come as a shock to you.

Annie knows this all-too-well.

"Here."

Annie snaps out of her thoughts. She hadn't even realized that—shit—she was just dozing off. She shakes her head, but then immediately regrets it because it only exacerbates her headache, and opens her eyes again and look up at Armin who had just spoken.

He reaches into his white bag and Annie watches him curiously before he takes out a cylindrical... _thing_ wrapped in paper towels. She's too tired to try and figure out what it is so she just watches in silence as Armin unwraps the paper towel to reveal a big, chocolate chip cookie.

"You probably don't feel up to it, but you should at least eat," he says, handing it up in her direction her.

Annie hesitates. Yes, she does still feel nauseous, but she's also hungry and goddammit if only she didn't have such a sweet tooth...

" _Here_ ," Armin repeats, thrusting the cookie in her direction. Annie needs no third invitation—she swipes up the cookie and mutters her thanks before she takes a bite out of the treat that's as big as the palm of her hand. Not that her hand is big anyway, but it's a generous comparison.

"Oh! I nearly forgot." Armin fishes his phone out of the front pocket of his jeans and Annie glares in jealousy—how dare he wear jeans that have pockets big enough for his phone, wallet, _and_ keys. She looks down at the front pockets on her own jeans but then scowls. Those aren't pockets. They're wanna-be pockets.

"Eren and Mikasa are coming back next week for spring break. We still have classes, but afterward, we should visit them," he says, opening his messages and scrolling through to find Eren's contact. He gives Annie his phone so that she can read through them and she does—reading how Eren and Mikasa's plane is landing next Monday at 1pm, how Eren's parents will be out that very same Monday in the evening, and how he wants them all to hang out at his place.

When she reaches the top of the messages, she sees a conversation that had been exchanged between Armin and Eren as well, and although she doesn't see much of it, she can see two texts: one from Armin and the other from Eren. The first message was Armin's:

[ _I think I like her_ ]

The next, Eren's:

**[ _jeez man just go for her then._ ]**

...

Annie's eyes go wide and she struggles to not drop Armin's phone in pure shock. Yeah, she pretty much expected for Armin to like someone but—goddammit, why does it feel so surprising and why can’t she quell the feeling of hurt swelling in her stomach?

' _Just because you know when something's going to happen doesn't mean that it still doesn't come as a shock to you,_ ' she suddenly thinks, or rather—remembers.

Armin notices her fidgeting and he turns to her, eyebrow cocked in concern, but when he notices the fact that her eyes are wide he swallows hard, realizing that she may have scrolled a bit _too_ far up in his conversations with Eren. He quickly swipes his phone away and with a nervous clearing of his throat, he slips his handheld back into his stupidly large jean pockets.

"So?" He asks, keeping his voice level despite his anxiety that builds in his throat.

Annie looks up at him, eyes still a fraction bigger than they should be. "S-So?" She squeaks out.

" _So_... do you want to come to Eren's house next Monday?" Armin clarifies.

Annie comes back to her senses and shakes the feeling of... of _whatever_ away. "Oh, uhm..." She takes her own phone out of her backpack since her jeans don't have Armin's stupidly big pockets and her hands shake as she views her schedule. Not that she needs to anyway, she already _knows_ that she's free that day, she just needs to be not looking at _Armin_. "Y-Yeah... yeah, I can go."

Armin nods. "Okay. Do you want me to pick you up after classes Monday?"

Annie heart gets a weird sinking feeling to it. "No!" She quickly calls out, maybe a bit too quickly judging by the fact that Armin fucking _starts_ at her voice. She clears her throat and her eyes dart away from Armin again. "I-I mean... I have _other_ things to do," she quickly supplies. She suddenly feels uncomfortable being alone with Armin.

"Oh, well if you're busy then you don't have to go," Armin replies.

Annie bites her bottom lip—shit, no, that's not what she meant. "No, I mean, like... I have to help my roommate out with something... b-but it won't take long so she'll just drop me off at Eren's later." She looks up at Armin only briefly before she instinctively looks away from him again.

"Oh... okay." Armin leans back and decides to let the conversation end like that. Annie is left shifting uncomfortably where she sits before he cheek his phone and realizes what time it is—time for his next class. He looks up at, telling Annie just that, and she nods as he grabs his bag, swinging it over his shoulder and turning back to Annie as he stands up to wait for her to get so they can walk back together.

Annie's hands are still shaking as she puts her bag on and she realizes that her cookie is still in her hands, so she quickly thrusts it past her lips to finish it. It ends up being too much from her tiny mouth to handle and as she tries to swallow it, she ends up choking instead, and Armin wastes no time surging back towards her and pat a hand along her back.

Her coughing eventually becomes less frequent and she looks up at Armin with teary-eyes, and seeing him stand over her like this has that weird _whatever_ feeling from before returning. She coughs one more, this time from discomfort as opposed to before where it was from the fact that tiny chocolate chips had found their way into her airways.

"You okay?"

Annie hums in response—or rather, she squeaks in response—eyes lowering again as the two start to walk forward. The reach a trash can and she throws away the paper towel as Armin throws away his own trash before he says something to her, although she doesn't hear.

"Well, bye then," he says once they reach the hall in which they part to go to their separate classes. Annie looks up, when did they even get here? She was so distracted, she didn't even notice...

Armin is already walking away and Annie's brain is slow to process anything before she calls out a strangled, "S-See, you!", as he walks away.

She then walks to her own class, eyes still teared-up from the fact that she was practically _wheezing_ a minute ago, and face bright red because of...

Huh?

Annie reaches a hand up to touch her cheeks that burn with the color pink. She never even noticed... but why _is_ her face red?

* * *

She never found the answer to that question. She swiftly avoided Armin when classes ended, texting him a simple excuse before she rushed back home to her dorm. And yeah, she had to admit that it was pretty boring walking back to her dorm by herself for 15 minutes since she usually either walked back with Armin or listened to music, but she was in no such luck since she forgot her earphones on her bed earlier that morning and Armin is... well, she just wants to avoid him right now.

Not that he did anything wrong though! Annie just... wants to avoid him—she needs time to... think 

During her 15 minute walk, Annie does just that—thinking about the events that transpired that day. Well, okay, she only thinks about what happened during her lunch break. She finds herself swallowing hard at the thought of Armin having a legitimate crush. Not that she hasn't considered it before—she has, a goddamn fucking lot, it's just that now that it might actually just be true and it's eating at her for some reason.

She can already see it now: some time in the near-future, they have a coinciding lunch break again and she waits for Armin at the courtyard, but he never shows up—she texts him when she gets back to her dorm to no response—she finds him one day on campus in a secluded corridor about a week or so into his endeavor of ignoring her and he'll be on the second floor making out with some random girl, and it would _destroy Annie_.

She shakes her head, trying to get that thought out of there. No, it will _not_ destroy her because she feels nothing for him anymore. And what she felt before was simple infatuation that was doomed to dissipate over time. She will _not_ be affected by this. She won't... she refuses to... she won't cry if she finds out that Armin has a girlfriend. She won't cry. She will not cry. _No!_

Annie stops walking, her face turning bright red—a result of her being so flustered—and the startled look on the faces of the people around her makes Annie realize that she had been muttering her thoughts aloud and that last thought must've come out rather... _vehemently_ _vociferously_ , judging by the fact that now there are three people staring at her. She turns even redder from embarrassment, muttering an incoherent apology before she walks faster down the sidewalk to her dorm.

When she comes stumbling into her dorm with her head throbbing because her exhaustion has fully caught up to her and her face still bright red, the first one to greet her is one of her two roommates, Hitch. She's talking cheerfully on the phone in the living room—probably to Marlo, again—and sipping on a can of beer when she looks up as Annie enters the dorm dazedly.

The greeting she receives is a simple wave from Hitch and she shifts her phone away form her mouth to say, "hey," before she continues to speak into the phone receiver. Annie is too tired to respond, lifting her chin on in acknowledgment before she stumbles into her room and lands face-flat onto her bed. She groans and kicks her shoes off since she had forgotten to do it at the door, turning onto her back before hissing as something jabs into her side.

She sits up and looks down—it's her earphones—and she scowls, picking them up and throwing them across the room before she goes back to lying on her bed. She’s left there, groaning and sighing simultaneously somehow and thinking about Armin... about those two stupid texts, and she rolls onto her side.

' _'I think I like her,'_ ' Annie thinks back to it. She sees the scene again; Armin's phone right in her hands, the reflection of her face in the dark screen, strands of her blonde hair falling forward into her vision, the two texts from Armin and Eren.

' _'I think I like her.'_ ' Shit, what the fuck does that even mean? It could have countless answers! Like, maybe Armin was just talking about some random female character from some random television show both he and Eren liked and he was simply admiring the female character. Or he could be talking about some picture Eren had sent her, asking Armin what his friend thought of the girl in the picture, and Armin answered truthfully, saying that he liked the way she looked.

There were _countless_ answers.

But then Annie remembers Eren's next text which has her heart sinking to her stomach.

' _'Jeez_ _man just go for her then._ _'_ '

Annie frowns. That next text... it rejects all of Annie's previous presumptions and leaves just one;

Armin was talking about a _real person_ who he had _real feelings_ for...

Annie swallows hard.

...and she... she isn't one of them.

She tosses onto her stomach again and lets out a little scream into her bed comforter. It shouldn't hurt this much—why does it hurt this much? Why does her heart feel like it's _splitting_ in _half?_

She rolls onto her back and stares up at the ceiling, her face hotter than it's ever been... _ever_ , and her vision half-lidded from her exhaustion. She feels like bawling into her pillow until there's just a spot drenched in her tears.

Why does she feel this way? She can only remember feeling like this once, but that was six years ago when she was sixteen and inebriated and pressing her lips up against Armin’s. This feeling in the pit of her stomach is just like the one she felt all those years ago when he had pushed her away and she left and cried like a baby.

It was so long ago, but she’s thought about it enough times to remember it clearly, as though it had happened just a few seconds ago. A memory that’s become so clear, and although she could no longer taste or feel it, it still clung to her and kept her up at night.

And—fuck, Annie frowns and rolls over on her bed again—thinking back to that night has the feeling swelling even more in her stomach she feels like she might burst from how much it expands.

Maybe she feels like this because she’s remembering what happened all those years ago. Maybe it’s nothing that serious and she should really just ignore it because it’ll eventually go away like her feelings for Armin did.

Or...

Annie bites her bottom lips as that ‘ _or_ ’ thought comes prodding in her mind.

_Or maybe she still likes Armin..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im two chapters in and i already want to cry this chapter hit waaay to close to home 😭


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which Annie gets wrapped up in a camping trip

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i cant help but feel like this chapter was uneventful but... meh it doesn't matter that much since the next couple will have a lot of shit go down in them.   
> Now, i told myself not to write over 4.5k words but this chapter ended up being MORE than 5k so uh... my bad. honestly, the chapters will probably only get longer from here but i promise that i wont let the word count exceed 10k
> 
> just sorry for the super long chapter but i hope u enjoy

Annie is more or less... _glad_ that the day she read Armin's texts was on the last day of her classes for the remainder of the week. She had two days until her next class on Monday, two days to clear her mind, to relieve stress, to enjoy the weekend she has off. Maybe two days away from Armin would allow her to just forget about those two texts. Two errand-free days, two texts to forget about. It all works out.

Except it doesn’t.

All she does is think about it. She searches for a meaning to it, digging deeper than she should and letting it consume her more than it should. They’re only two texts… two stupid texts…

 _‘TWO STUPID TEXTS THAT I KEEP THINKING ABOUT!’_ Annie groans as she thinks this.

This isn’t her. She isn’t like this. Annie is aloof, a “stoic, blonde bitch” (according to Reiner who called her that when he was drunk), and she shouldn’t be fazed by this. She isn’t affected by any of which occurrence or event, she’s level-minded and she’s _calm_.

But she isn’t.

At least, not when it comes to _this_.

An entire weekend, wasted on stressing over two stupid texts. She was supposed to clear her mind this weekend, supposed to relieve stress, to enjoy the weekend she had off, yet all she did was overthink and over-worry and now it’s Monday and she’s fidgeting as she makes her way to class.

She rolls the silver ring on her right thumb, a gift she received from her father once, using her forefinger and thumb on her left hand to do so. She’s nervous as she walks into the lecture hall, nervous as she scans the room already littered with students and nervous as she steps into the large space.

It’s 11:57am and the lecture starts at 12pm, so Annie only has three minutes to kill before the professor will walk in and start to ramble about stupid physics nonsense that she always fails to understand. She takes a seat in the middle row, not in the front where she’ll be right up close but not in the back where she can’t hear or see anything clearly. She puts her bag down at her feet and takes her phone out—it lights up under her touch and the first thing on her screen is a text from Armin.

 **[** **_Eren wants us to go over at 6. Think you can still make it?_ ** **]**

Annie swallows hard before she types out a response.

[ _Yeah sure_ ]

 **[** **_Great! See you then_ ** **]**

Annie sets her phone down and feels her heart-rate accelerate. She doesn’t like the way the thought of seeing Armin again makes her want to throw up and laugh and cry simultaneously. It’s weird, this feeling is weird with how it consumes her so easily yet leaves her with difficulty. She has yet to identify it, so for now, it’s just ‘ _that stupid feeling that I get about when I think about Armin and his stupid face and his stupid kissable lips_ ’, dubbed by Annie herself.

The fact that the professor had walked in and started to speak doesn’t even register fully in Annie’s mind because she’s too engrossed in the feeling that consumes her and she only realizes that the lecture has begun when in 12:30-ish and there are students sitting around her who’ve already gotten their notebooks and laptops open to take notes. She mentally scolds herself for not being more attentive as she reaches down to her backpack and pulls out her laptop haphazardly, nearly dropping it from her shaky fingers in the process, before she sets it on the table in front of her and opens it.

Maybe this is why she never understands what the hell her professor is talking about…

(Hint: it’s because she’s never actually paying attention to him.)

* * *

Annie debates on canceling on Armin as time draws closer and closer to 5:30. Eren’s place is a good 20 minute drive, so she asked Hitch if she could drop her off there because Hitch is the only one of her roommates with an actual, functioning car (not the old, 2006 one that Mina has and claims to be ‘perfectly fine,’ despite the fact that it breaks down every two seconds), and her roommate agreed with very little convincing. But now it’s 5:28pm and Annie toys with her silver ring in nervous trepidation.

If she feels this anxious about going, maybe she should just cancel. Spare herself the embarrassment and just stay in her dorm and binge a random show. It wouldn’t be hard to—she’d just take her phone out and text Armin that, no, she can’t go because the _thing_ she had to help her roommate with is taking too long and they might not be done in time.

But Annie quickly disregards that thought with a shake of her head. If she can’t face Armin now, when _will_ she be able to?

“Ready?”

Annie starts and her eyes pop open and she looks up at her door which Hitch has pushed open to bed ajar as she peers into the room. Annie braces herself on her elbows and lifts herself up from where she lays on her bed, brows furrowed from thought.

“I… don’t know?” It sounds more like a question than a response when it leaves her.

Hitch frowns. “Annie, I’m leaving right now. It’s either you're ready or you aren’t.”

Annie frowns right back at Hitch before she sighs, sitting up completely. “Okay, okay. I’m coming,” she says, swinging her legs off the edge of her bed and rising to her feet.

Hitch nods, leaving the door ajar and as she walks away and Annie slowly walks towards her door before she swings it open. She walks forward when she reaches the conjoined living room and kitchen, she sees Mina on the couch watching tv.

“Hey, Annie!” Mina excitedly greets her.

Annie greets her back, not nearly as enthusiastic as the noirette is as she walks towards the front door where Hitch stands, waiting for her. “Hurry, I’ll be late,” Hitch hisses as she opens the door and steps outside.

Annie dismisses her with a wave, slipping her shoes on with ease before she follows Hitch out the door.

Mina yells out a goodbye to the both of them to which only Hitch responds to before she shuts the door and they descend the steps to the first floor, which aren’t that many since they’re only on the third floor.

“Where are _you_ going?” Annie asks although she sounds disinterested as she shoves her hands into her hoodie pockets.

“I’m hanging out with Marlo,” Hitch replies with a smile.

“You’re boyfriend?” Annie remarks with a cock of her brow.

“Who else,” Hitch answers, her smile sliding off her face as they exit the building. The walk isn’t far to her car and before they know it, Annie is buckling up as Hitch starts to pull out of the lot and onto the main road.

The drive is quiet—well, _Annie_ is quiet, Hitch is playing her pop music that Annie can never seem to get accustomed to. But then they’re five minutes away from Eren’s house and pulling into his neighborhood and Annie's stomach flips as they drive through the familiar street.

 _‘Wait, no, shit, I don’t want to be here,’_ she thinks, but it’s too late—Hitch lets her car go stationary as she pulls up beside Eren’s home.

“Alright, here you go,” Hitch says, her hands not even leaving the steering wheel as she nods to the house.

Annie doesn’t respond. She’s gone stark as she looks at the house and swallows hard. Hitch stares at her roommate with a brow pulled up in expectancy, waiting for Annie to mutter her thanks before she leaves, but she doesn’t.

“Wait.” Annie swallows dryly. Her eyes have gone wide and she feels… apprehensive.

“Gosh, what is it? I don’t have all day, _Leonhardt_ ,” Hitch hisses, the use of Annie’s last name exemplifying her annoyance.

“I-I…” Annie shakes her head. The words refuse to leave her, as she refuses to move. This is stupid, her trepidation is stupid, so she swallows it down and inhales sharply before she clicks down on the button to her belt and it slides out from around her. “N-Never mind,” she opens the door and steps out, “thanks for the ride.”

Hitch doesn’t question her behavior—just says a, “whatever, weirdo,” as the door slams shut and she can drive off.

Annie exhales a breath she hadn’t even notice she had been holding and steps forward, and then she steps again, and again, and again, until she’s at Eren’s front door and the only thing separating her and the group of young adults she’s to hang out with this evening is a front door. She raises her hand to the doorbell, but then her finger just lingers on the button, unable to move away from it or apply pressure to it or anything.

She’s just stuck there.

But then the door swings open and Annie nearly yelps as she pulls her hand away from the bell.

“Ah-hah! I scared you, didn’t I?”

Annie stares, dumbfounded before she clears her throat and slowly comes back to reality. “Wh-What?” She exhales hoarsely.

“My parents got these new cameras installed so I saw you at the door before you even rang the bell. The look on your face was hilarious.” The male talking—Eren—laughs just at the memory of it. “Did you get scared?”

Annie has fully pulled herself back to reality by now and she realizes where she is. Her throat goes dry. “Oh, uh, yeah,” she says with a slow nod.

“She didn’t get scared,” Mikasa’s voice comes from behind Eren, somewhere within the house, and at that, the male turns around and glares.

“Oh, shut up, you! I know fear when I see it!” He turns back to Annie and opens the door wider, gesturing for her to enter, and she does. As she peels her shoes off at the entryway, she can tell that hardly anything has changed from the last time she visited Eren’s parents’ home—which was six years ago in high school and she, Eren, Armin, and Mikasa were still friends.

When Annie started to acquaint herself with Armin again, rebecoming friends with Eren and Mikasa just kind of came with it and the four started to text each other all the time in group chats. They've even met-up a few times during Eren and Mikasa's winter break last year when they had come back home since they attended an out of state post-secondary school whilst Annie and Armin attended an in-state one. It seemed like after getting past the initial awkward stage of the rekindling of their friendship, they became close again with ease—as though all they were simply doing was returning to something old yet familiar.

Eren leads Annie through his house and into the kitchen and they move with ease, no awkward tension in the air whatsoever and Annie can only hope that it’ll stay like this. Mikasa is in the kitchen when they get there, making herself a sandwich, and Annie does a quick scan of the room to see that no one else seems to be here.

“Mikasa’s the only one here right now,” Eren says as though he's read her mind, opening a cabinet and taking out a bag of chips, “Well, you _and_ Mika.”

“Stop calling me that,” Mikasa hisses under her breath, lightly elbowing Eren in the side before she goes back to finishing up her sandwich.

“Why? It’s cute,” Eren opens the bag and pops a chip into his mouth, “Mika, Mika, Mika,” he taunts.

Mikasa glares at him, reaching behind her to attack him somehow, but he ducks out of her way and runs behind Annie with a snicker. “Ah! Annie, help, she’ll _kill_ me!”

Annie smirks. “Good.”

Eren frowns at that, but Mikasa smirks back at her. “This is why I like having you around,” she says to the blonde. “You and I can always agree with each other.”

Annie shrugs nonchalantly, completely dismissing the pouting Eren behind her. “Sisters before misters,” she says, but then gags right after at the use of that phrase because _ew_. 

Mikasa laughs at that, cutting her sandwich in half before she tosses the knife into the sink. Eren makes a miffed sound as he pops another chip into his mouth. “I feel excluded.”

“Good,” Mikasa says with a teasing lilt.

Annie smiles genuinely at this—at the feeling in her stomach. The feeling of familiarity, of happiness from being around people, those of whose company she enjoys. She likes this feeling _much more_ than the one she gets from being around Armin, or from simply thinking about him. The feeling of uncertainty and of wanting to jump into his arms and kiss his stupid face. The feeling of-

The doorbell rings, cutting her thoughts short, and Eren immediately rushes over to the door to open it to have none other than _Armin himself_ step inside with a waved greeting. 

_Speak of the fucking devil._

He isn’t alone, for behind him are two people of the opposite sex, one being a girl with brown hair pulled up into a ponytail and the other being a guy which a buzz cut—Sasha and Connie. Connie and Eren make an obnoxious noise of excitement when they see each other and they exchange some kind of handshake that has Annie’s head hurting as she tries to follow along with it before they end it with a simple high-five.

“My man!” Connie grins, punching Eren’s arm playfully. “How’s it like to be back from college?”

“Greater than ever,” Eren replies enthusiastically. “Come into the kitchen, Mika and Annie are there too.”

Annie isn’t sure, but… she thinks she sees Armin stiffen from where she stands. Connie and Sasha walk forward into the kitchen, leaving Eren and Armin behind them.

“Ahhh! Annie!” The girl says, or rather squeals, jumping towards Annie with her arms outstretched to hug the girl. The blonde ducks out of her way and Sasha nearly falls over when she does, but she recovers quickly with a smile. “It’s so good to see you!” Then she turns to Mikasa, “you too, Mikasa!” She says, surging towards the noirette.

Mikasa doesn’t duck away in time and gets trapped in the brunette’s embrace. She makes a disgusted noise but smiles anyway because she really did miss this, deep down. Annie watches them with a tiny smile before she turns back to the entryway where Eren whispers something to Armin’s ear. They must’ve been looking at Annie judging by the way their eyes quickly flit away from her, but Eren’s whispered words don’t stop.

“What are you guys waiting for? Come on! I brought alcohol!” Connie says to the two boys, displaying the aforementioned bottle that he had come in with which Annie had failed to notice.

“We’re coming, we’re coming.” Eren starts to walk forward and Armin only hesitates before following him.

“Shots! Let’s do shots!” Sasha suggests enthusiastically.

“Yes! I’m down,” Eren replies. He turns to Mikasa. “Mika?”

She glares at him at the use of that nickname but doesn’t object. “Sure.”

Eren turns to Armin. “Armin?”

The blond shakes his head in reply. “Can’t. I’m their designated driver home,” he replies, nodding towards Connie and Sasha who’ve already begun digging through the cabinets for shot glasses.

“You’re missing out.” Eren turns to Annie. “What about you?”

Annie shakes her head. “I... I don’t drink.” Her eyes nervously flit to Armin before back to Eren.

“Lies! I know you drink!” Sasha turns back to call out the blonde. “Come on, just one!”

Annie shakes her head. “Thanks for the offer, but… bad things happen with me when there’s alcohol involved,” she says, muttering that last part. She hopes no one hears it.

Her hope is fruitless—someone _does_ hear it 

“Hmm, okay. At least Armin won’t be alone,” Connie says, moving onto the next cabinet. “Dude, what the hell? This is the second cabinet I’ve seen with just seasoning!”

“This is my parent’s house, dumbass. And they actually _like_ to season their food,” Eren shoots back.

Connie turns back just to glare at Eren. “Hey! Don’t diss my mom’s food like that!”

Eren raises his hands in mock surrender. “I didn’t.” But he's smirking mischievously, meaning that he did.

Connie glares for only a second longer before he turns back to the cabinet.

“Found them!” Sasha cheers happily, drawing her hand out of the cabinet she was just looking into with several shot glasses pinned in her fingers.

Connie closes the cabinet he was just looking through, grabbing his bottle of alcohol and popping it open over the sink so that any alcohol that fizzes out will overflow into the drain. Sasha sets the glasses down, counting how many there are so that she has enough.

“Shit, I still need one more.” She looks up again. “Annie, could you…” Her voice trails off when she notices the way blue eyes flicker up anxiously from Armin’s figure beside her, seemingly somewhat paranoid that she may have just been…

 _‘Caught… definitely caught_ ,’ Sasha thinks. She clears her throat and turns to Eren. “Never mind, Eren, grab one more shot glass, please.”

Eren nods, turning around and opening a cabinet to retrieve one final shot glass before he sets it down in the kitchen island. Connie is quick to fill the tiny glasses with alcohol, and before they know it, everyone has a shot glass in hand, excluding the two blondes who keep ogling at each other.

“You sure you don’t want to?” Sasha asks back at Annie once more.

“I’m fine. You guys drink,” she replies.

Sasha hums in response, then raises her glass and, “cheers!”, is echoed throughout the house, followed by the clinking of glasses together before there’s alcohol sliding down their throats.

Annie shifts uncomfortably. She hasn’t drunk since she was sixteen for good reason, but when she sees others do it she feels the need to join in. Not that she hates drinking or is against it, it's just that she’s scared of what may transpire if she were to do it with Armin in the same room as her.

* * *

Armin is sure that he’s acting weird. No one acts like this around their friends normally—no one keeps glancing at their friend with such lust and affection simultaneously and _no one_ turns bright red when their friend pins them with a ‘caught you’ look whenever their eyes meet.

No one acts like this around their friends…

except for Armin.

It’s been two hours since they’ve all arrived at Eren’s place and the bottle of alcohol that Connie brought with him is down to its last drops. Mikasa stopped at two shots, Sasha stopped at three, but Eren and Connie challenged each other to see who could consume the most shots before becoming shit-faced and now the bottle is nearly empty as Eren and Connie practically inhale what seems to be their thousandth shot.

Connie lets the glass fall onto the table with his hand and exhales through his mouth, cheeks tinged red from the alcohol, but lips stretched into a wide, challenging grin.

“You drunk yet?” His words are slurred.

“Not even close.” Eren hiccups after he speaks.

“Okay guys, that’s enough,” Armin interjects because he _knows_ that the impish look in Eren's eyes means that he’s about to challenge Connie to another shot.

“No no,” Eren dismisses Armin with a wave of his hand, “I want to see how much this guy can handle.”

Armin prepares to interject again, but then gives in with a sigh and sits back on the couch. “It’s your vomit you’ll have to clean up from the carpet tomorrow morning, you know,” he murmurs.

This sparks something in Eren because he instantly stiffens, grimacing at the thought of having to explain to his parents why he’s shit-faced and why there’s vomit seeping into the carpet. He, too, gives in with a sigh and leans back against the large base of the couch.

“You’re right. But we should finish this sometime,” he says, narrowing his eyes at his ‘competition’.

“You’re on,” Connie replies, grinning impishly as he and Eren shake on it.

Armin sighs, glad that’s over, and turns to Sasha who raids Eren’s pantry before she pulls out two bags of chips. “How long are you guys here for?” Sasha calls into the living room from the kitchen, returning with the two family-sized bags.

“A week,” Mikasa replies, using a remote to control the tv and scroll through Netflix.

“Aw, that’s so short! I’ll miss you when you’re gone!” Sasha cries, running forward and wrapping her arms around Mikasa’s back. Mikasa shrugs her off.

“Don’t miss me just yet; I’m still here.”

Sasha hums, letting the girl go as she plops down beside Armin, throwing one of the bags to Annie who sits on the couch adjacent to hers.

“We should do something together,” Sasha suggests, opening the bag and setting it between herself, Armin, and Mikasa so that they could share as Annie shared with Eren and Connie on the other couch.

“We are doing something,” Annie deadpans as she opens the bag.

“I know that!” Sasha throws a chip to Annie, but her aim is off and it hits Connie instead. He growls a “hey!”, in her direction, but she ignores it. 

“I mean, like something _else_.” Sasha shoves a handful of potato chips into her mouth before her eyes widen as though she had just made a revelation. “Camping! Let’s go camping!”

Eren perks up at this, smirking as he pops a chip into his mouth. “Yes! We should!”

Annie nods, “it sounds fun.”

Sasha frowns at the girl, poking her side. “Would it kill you to be more enthusiastic sometimes?”

Annie frowns back. “I _am_ enthusiastic,” she replies.

“When?” Sasha asks with a cocked brow, genuinely curious because she can’t even _remember_ the last time she heard Annie laugh.

“When she’s drunk,” Connie teases lightly. “Probably,” he adds.

Sasha gasps around another mouthful of chips, pointing an accusatory finger in Annie’s direction. “ _That’s_ why you didn’t drink! You don’t want us to see you excited!”

Annie glares at her. “What? No-“

“It’s settled!” Sasha cuts through Annie’s protest. “We’re going camping and there will be alcohol and you,” she looks at Annie firmly, “ _will_ drink this time!”

“Ooh, sounds fun,” Eren says with a teasing lilt to his tone, but he isn’t looking at Annie as he says this. Instead, his eyes linger on Armin, giving him a certain _look_ that has heat crawling up Armin's neck. Not that anyone notices though (much to his relief).

“Wait, I-“

“When are we all free?” Connie asks, cutting into yet _another_ one of Annie’s protests.

“You all already know that Eren and I have this entire week off. _You_ decide,” Mikasa comments, still searching for a movie. 

“I have classes tomorrow,” Armin says. “And the day after that there’s an exam. Maybe Thursday?”

“Hold on-“

“I have a shift on Thursday,” Sasha whines, kicking her legs out petulantly to show just much of an inconvenience it seems when really, they could work around it. Annie’s protest goes by unheard again.

“When does it end?” Connie asks.

“4,” Sasha replies, digging her hand back into the bag of chips.

“We could work around it. I’m also free Thursday,” Connie replies.

“Wait, everyone’s going right?” Eren asks for clarification.

“Yeah.” Mikasa nods.

“Yes for me!” Sasha replies cheerfully just before shoving even more chips into her mouth.

“I will,” Connie replies.

“Armin?” Eren turns to his blond friend.

“Sure, sounds fun,” Armin responds. It really does sound fun to him. Camping with his friends, with _Annie_ —the thought of sharing a tent with her has his heart racing. Not that they’d probably even do that—they might be separated, boys and girls, but _fuck_ does the thought of it make him feel giddy. Even though he didn’t even touch the alcohol, he still feels like this—floaty, euphoric, happy, just because he’s thinking about-

“Can you guys just _wait_ a minute!” 

Everyone stiffens and all of their attention shifts to Annie. She swallows hard as she feels several sets of eyes settle on her. _Shit_ . She hadn’t _meant_ to yell, it’s just that no one was listening to her and she had to get their attention _somehow_.

“Everything… okay?” Eren asks cautiously.

Annie’s breath hitches when she hears the caution in his voice. Even the once-stoic Mikasa is looking at her with concern and Sasha’s enthusiastic expression melts into a frown.

“J-Just… I don’t know if I’m free that day,” Annie lies straight through her teeth, looking away. She starts to roll her silver ring on her right thumb again with her forefinger and thumb on her left hand nervously. She isn’t exactly opposed to the idea of camping, she just doesn’t like the way the thought of spending the night close to Armin has her heartbeat becoming erratic.

“Oh…” Sasha deflates. “Maybe there’s another day. Saturday?”

Connie nods. He still seems a bit shaken by Annie’s loud voice. “Saturday’s good.”

Mikasa then shakes her head. “My uncle and I are visiting relatives on Saturday. Levi said it’s important, or something,” she says.

“Oh.” Sasha looks down.

“What about Friday?” Mikasa suggests.

“I have to babysit that day,” Sasha replies.

“Sunday?” Eren says.

Annie frowns as guilt overcomes her. Now, everyone’s just throwing up random days of the week into the air, only to have it quickly rejected by somebody else. She feels guilty, and she can practically _feel_ everybody’s excitement in the room slowly dissipate.

‘ _All because I feel weird about Armin_ ,’ she thinks. She squeezes her eyes shut and exhales. Then,

“I could… work around it,” she says.

It takes a while for it to happen, but then suddenly, the excitement in the room swells again.

“Really? Oh, you are the best, Annie!” Sasha leans over the arm of the couch she sits on to pull Annie into her arms from the other couch.

“Thank god,” Armin mutters under his breath. Or rather, he _thinks_ he mutters it, but it comes out audible and then everyone turns to _him_ instead.

Even Annie is curious as she peers up at him, her apprehension disappearing momentarily to make room for inquisitiveness.

“I mean… it wouldn’t be the same without you. You’re... fun to be around,” he quickly amends.

Annie cocks a brow. “ _I’m_ fun to be around?” It was meant to come out a tease, but now it sounds like a genuine question. Obviously, she must know that Armin enjoys her company to a certain degree, but hearing him attach the word fun to her must be a joke.

And it is—kind of—because Eren starts to snicker behind his hand.

“Yeahhh, no,” he drawls, still chortling as he speaks. “I’m pretty sure that Annie is the least fun person to be around in this group,” he says with a shit-eating grin. “Right after Mikasa, of course,” he tacks on, earning himself a playful glare from the mentioned noirette.

“Well, not like that, I mean…” Armin shrugs and rubs the nape of his neck before settling on, “you’re not _fun_ , necessarily, I just love your company, that’s all.”

So… Annie isn’t exactly sure how to feel about the fact that Armin used the word ‘love’ and ‘you’ (well, he says your, but it’s close enough), in the same sentence, but she suddenly has two epiphanies. It’s because of the way Armin says the word ‘love’ without stutter, without his eyes flickering to everywhere but Annie, without any awkward pauses, that Annie has these realizations. 

When people secretly love another person, they don’t use that word in front of them—especially not _towards_ them. They stutter and stammer and backpedal whenever the word comes up in conversation, but that’s not what _Armin_ is doing. He looks so calm about it like he’s talking about the weather and its that offhandedness that jars Annie.

Armin isn’t acting embarrassed about it because he has no reason to.

He has no reason to feel weird about saying that he loves anything about Annie because he _doesn’t_ love Annie, at least, not like _that_. He isn’t affected by that oppressive anxiety or that crushing self-consciousness that accompanies secret feelings of affection because he doesn’t hone any feelings of affection at all. He doesn’t love Annie, he loves someone else.

Of course, she knew this, but like always, it still sends a feeling of dread surging through her body. And with a sudden remembrance of this realization, two epiphanies follow in its wake:

(1): Annie may have, for some reason, delusionally, at some point, _thought_ that Armin may have secretly loved her, and (2): she _wants_ Armin to love her.

“Hey, Annie? You alright?” Sasha frowns, waving a hand in front of her face.

Annie blinks, her thoughts scatter, she’s back to reality. “Huh? Oh, yeah.” She tucks a strand of her blonde hair behind her ear.

“Okay, so, what time is good for you? Anytime past 4 is good for me,” Sasha says.

Annie thinks for a moment before shrugging. “Maybe 5…” she murmurs.

“5! Is everyone good with 5?” Eren asks a bit too loudly, resulting in Mikasa poking his side and uttering a “you’re too loud.”

“That’s good.” Connie nods.

“We could meet up at my place and I could ask Levi to use his truck,” Mikasa suggests.

“I’ll bring the alcohol,” Connie says.

“Sweet. I’ll bring meat to barbeque,” Eren replies.

“We should have a bonfire!” Sasha gasps excitedly. “And I could bring marshmallows! We should make s’mores!”

Connie and Eren laugh at that which makes the brunette frown. “What? Why is that funny?” She asks.

“Because you’re adorable,” Connie says, still laughing as he wipes a fake tear from his eye.

“You’re supposed to be excited about the alcohol, not s’mores,” Mikasa deadpans.

Sasha rolls her eyes. “Armin probably likes s’mores, right Armin?” She asks, turning to the boy.

Armin’s eyes quickly go to her, his cheeks bright red. “H-Huh?” He strains. Sasha takes only a moment to realize that, _oh_ , his eyes were on Annie. He was watching Annie, but upon being called on he turned to his caller with a certain nervousness to his eyes. It doesn’t take long for Sasha to realize that Annie had shared that exact same expression when she had called her earlier—the look of feeling caught—and upon realizing this, Sasha smirks triumphantly.

This, she decides not to share, although now she can’t help but suspect that something may be going on between the two blondes in their friend group.

“Whatever,” she begins, deciding not to press the matter, “I’m bringing it anyways. More for me.”

Eren chuckles. “Well, now that we have meat, alcohol, and s’mores,” he says, counting off his fingers, “what else?”

“I have two tents we could use,” Mikasa comments. “Bring your own sleeping bags though. What about you, Annie?”

Annie shrugs, “I don’t know. Maybe… I could bring drinks other than just alcohol,” she says.

Eren nods. “That just leaves…” he turns to his blond friend, “Armin. How will _you_ contribute?”

Armin nervously looks around, trying to think of something, when Sasha speaks up. “You should bring cards! We could play BS!”

Armin nods, “S-sure, alright. I could borrow my roommate’s cards.”

“That’s everyone,” Eren says, leaning back into the couch. He exhales through a smile. “This’ll be fun.”

Armin parts his lips to say a comment when his phone suddenly hums in his pocket, making him clamp his mouth shut as he reaches into his back pocket and pulls his phone out. There, he sees a message from his roommate.

 **[** **_im drun k nd I lockd myself out. Pls help_ ** **]**

Armin frowns, sighing as he types out his response. [ _k gimme a moment. i’ll be there in 30._ ]

“My roommate locked himself out,” Armin says, slipping his phone back into his pocket. “So, I’ve gotta head out.”

Mikasa hums in response. “Well, It’s getting late and you guys probably have classes, so we should probably all go too.”

Sasha rises to her feet and crumples the empty bag of chips in her hand. “This was fun though,” she says, making her way to the kitchen to throw away the empty bag of chips.

Eren stands up, nodding in agreement and swiping up the empty bottle of alcohol to dispose of it. Everyone begins to clean up, although there isn’t much to get rid of, and in three simple minutes the kitchen and living room look as though there was no one in the house in the first place. 

Everyone starts to head towards the front door and they all slip their shoes on as Eren watches them slowly pour out of his house.

Annie finds herself fidgeting with her ring as she leaves Eren’s house, all the possibilities of what may transpire running through her head. She really shouldn’t be this nervous about hanging around friends, she just can’t get the thought of being around _Armin_ out of her head.

She feels like she’s sixteen all over again.

Annie exhales through her frown, then swallows hard and shakes her head.

Maybe she’s just being overdramatic. Today was… fine, for the most part. It wasn’t as bad as she made it out to be, so maybe this camping trip will prove to herself that she can act normal around Armin. Maybe this camping trip will make something click in her mind and she’ll stop overthinking every encounter that ensues between the two of them. Maybe this camping trip will help her make a revelation that will help her return to her old self. Maybe this camping trip will be beneficial.

Or maybe this camping trip will exacerbate this issue she has and her feelings of unease around Armin will only increase.

Annie screws her eyes shut and inhales slowly, lifting her hands to drag them down her face.

No, she can’t let herself think like that. For once, she needs to look on the bright side. She needs to abandon the pessimistic-realist she is and be optimistic just for this one time—abandon Annie become Pollyanna just for the camping trip. She _has_ to belive that something good will come out of this because… because…

Annie sighs.

...because she’ll feel lost if she doesn’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope you enjoyed this chapter! :)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i feel like i should write in Armin's pov more? well, not necessarily pov, but more like third-person limited where i focus on only Armin's thoughts.
> 
> ehh, we'll see if i feel like it

Annie steps inside the female locker room with sweat sticking to her skin. It’s been quite a while since she’s worked out, and she has to say that running on the treadmill and relentlessly going at a punching bag really did relieve some of her tension.

Although she’s sure that by 5 pm on Thursday, all of her tension will return and continue to eat at her as it does.

She grabs a towel from a dispenser in the locker room to mop sweat from her face and neck as she walks to one of the lockers and takes out her gym bag. In one of the stalls, she sheds her sweaty workout gear and dons some black sweatpants and a loose, white-t, favoring showering at her dorm rather than at the gym, and as she leaves she swings her gym bag over her shoulder. 

One of the workers bids her goodbye and she reciprocates with a simple wave before stepping out into the late evening air. She always prefers working out whenever the sun starts to set so she can step outside afterward and feel the cool air up against her flushed skin.

On her way to the nearest bus stop, her phone starts to buzz in her bag and she lets out a string of swears as she fumbles for it. Once the phone is free the ringing becomes loud and clear and grating, and she can see the caller ID instantly.

_Bertholdt Hoover calling…_

“Bertholdt?” She murmurs aloud, brow cocking as she picks up nonetheless. It’s been quite a while since they’ve spoken with each other, hasn’t it? A couple of months, actually.

“Hel-”

“ _Annie? Ohmygoshthankgodyoupickedup._ ”

Annie starts at the urgency in Bertholdt’s tone, already hearing him freak out over the phone. “Hey, Bertholdt. What’s up?”

“ _Wewerejustgoingouttodrinkbutthensomeonemustvespikedhisdrinkbecausehe’snotmovingandohmyGodI’mfreakingoutagain-_ ”

“Whoa whoa _whoa_ ,” Annie begins, interjecting the frantic speech on the other side of the phone. “Calm down and then tell me what happened.”

There’s silence on the other side before Annie hears a quiet sigh, and then, “ _I-I don’t really think I can explain it, but do you think you can come help me?_ ”

Annie pauses, looking around and then peeling her phone away from her ear to look at the time. 5:08 pm. She sighs, then brings her phone up to her ear again. “What is it?”

“ _I-I just need your help._ ”

Annie sighs but then nods even though he can’t see her. “Where are you at?”

“ _Oh my gosh,_ _thank you_ ,” Bertholdt practically gasps into the receiver. “ _I’ll send you our location._ ”

“Our? Wait, what-” The click of the call ending has Annie cutting her sentence short before she just sighs, wrenching her phone away from her ear. Two seconds later, her phone hums in her hand and it’s a message from Bertholdt—his location—and right under it, Annie sees a notification she had failed to notice before.

_Bertholdt Hoover: Missed call (16)_

At this, Annie’s eyes go wide.

Well, whatever Bertholdt must need her for must be important for him to have called her so many times, so she can at least hope that whatever she’s been called for won’t be a waste of her time.

* * *

When Annie arrives at the location and sees Bertholdt and Reiner in an alleyway with the latter slumped on the floor, knocked out, she concludes that, no, this _won’t_ be too much of a waste of her time.

“What kind of trouble did you guys get into this time?” Annie asks, crossing her arms.

Bertholdt turns to her, face pale and eyes wide as saucers as though he’s just seen a ghost. “We were just going out for drinks but then this girl started talking to him so I left but I think she slipped something in his drink because when we were walking home he just passed out. He’s been like this for almost an hour,” he admits, his sentences running together from his frantic speech.

Annie’s eyes flicker from a horrified Bertholdt to an unconscious Reiner before she sighs. She ought to be a bit more worried about Reiner—this is her friend we’re talking about ( _well, more like very close acquaintance if we’re being specific_ )—but she’s been in a situation like this one too many times in which Reiner does something stupid and she and Bertholdt have to drag him back home to his apartment to the point where she’s gotten used to it.

She only rolls her eyes before she approaches Reiner, sitting on her haunches in front of his body slumped against the ground and extending her forefinger under his nose. When she feels his warm breath against her digit, she pulls it back and stands up with another roll of her eyes.

“You can stop pissing your pants now, he’s still alive,” she says, shifting her gym bag onto her left shoulder as she pulls the man up to his feet with her right arm.

“Wha-What are you doing?” Bertholdt asks, still seemingly terrified.

“Helping this dumbass get back to his apartment. Give me a hand,” she says, gesturing to the heavy male beside her. Her tiny body shoves up against Reiner’s much larger one as she slides up underneath his arm and slips her own around his waist, hauling him up to his full length.

Bertholdt immediately rushes over to her when he notices her stagger underneath the full of Reiner’s 200 lbs, sliding up against Reiner’s left side and using his own arm to stabilize the male. Then, slowly, the two walk forward and down the sidewalk, dragging Reiner’s unconscious body with them and earning themselves many skeptical glances from other passersby.

It’s not a long walk back—thankfully—and just as Annie’s arms start to cramp up, they’re at Reiner’s apartment complex. They’re both glad that he lives on the first floor and they drop his body at the door, Bertholdt already knowing his passcode and entering it so that when it swings open, all that’s left to do is haul Reinier into his home and drop him on the couch.

Annie lets out a sigh of relief as she plops down on the couch across the one Reiner is on, leaning her head back against the cushion as she exhales.

“If I knew that I would be carrying a man who’s 200 pounds today, I would’ve never even thought about going to the gym,” she says through an exhale.

Bertholdt snorts a bit, although it sounds more like he’s trying to force the tension in his body out through his snort rather than release a noise of amusement. “Sorry for getting you involved in all of this,” he says, gesturing vaguely to Reiner who still sleeps as though he hadn’t just been dragged down a sidewalk for over two blocks.

Annie shrugs, “it’s okay.” She lifts her head from where it lays lolled to the side on the couch to look at Bertholdt who just… _stares_ at Reiner. He stares at him like he’s the best thing he’s ever seen, as though he just discovered the meaning of life thanks to him, and the fondness in the tall male’s features makes Annie’s heart lurch a bit.

“You should tell him,” she mutters, letting her head fall back again as her eyes drift up to the ceiling.

Bertholdt immediately turns bright red—he already knows what Annie is referring to. “I can’t,” he murmurs.

Annie lifts her head again to just glare at Bertholdt. “Why not? You’ve liked him for two years and everyone sees the way you look at him, it’d be a miracle if he _didn’t_ know,” she says. “Just _tell_ him.”

Bertholdt sighs. “You make it sound so easy,” he says.

“ _You_ overcomplicate it,” Annie shoots back. “Just tell him you love him. I hate it when I see him do stupid shit like this because it always hurt _you_.”

“But what if he doesn’t like men?” Bertholdt asks, almost hesitantly.

Annie snorts at that. “Oh trust me, he does.” She sits up and leans over to pin Bertholdt with one of those glares of hers. The type of glare that has whatever poor soul that happens to be on the receiving end of it sweating—the type of glare that she uses to pry to truth out of anyone. “What are you afraid of?”

Bertholdt swallows hard, eyes flickering momentarily to Reiner to confirm that, yes, he _is_ still asleep before he responds. “O-Of him not wanting to be my friend anymore because of it,” he admits softly.

Annie’s heart lurches again. This is all too damn familiar.

“Well, I can tell you that _that_ won’t happen. Reiner is a dick, yes, but you and I have both known him long enough to know that he would never abandon us no matter what dumb shit happens. _You_ especially,” she says. “Just-”

The sound of Reiner stirring has Annie losing her words and Bertholdt stiffens as they both turn to the male. He slowly groans as he opens his red eyes, his cheeks flushed—probably from all the beers he must’ve ingested.

“Ah, Reiner. Nice of you to join us,” Annie says, watching as the male sits up before he brings a hand up to his forehead.

“Annie? Uh, fuck,” he rubs his aching head, “my head hurts.”

“That’s what you get for being shit-faced and letting some chick spike your drinks.” Annie stands up, pulling her gym bag onto her shoulder and taking her phone out of it to check the time. “As much as I’d love to stay, which I _wouldn’t_ , I have a bus to catch.”

“Wait, what?” Bertholdt turns to Annie as she walks to the door and unlocks it.

“Yup. Unlike you two, _I’m_ a college student with college classes to attend to. Now if you’ll excuse me,” she swings the door open and steps outside, “have a good night.”

“Wait, Annie!”

But she closes the door just as Bertholdt cries out and his exclamation cuts short. She snorts a bit behind her hand, walking down the sidewalk and to the bus stop as she also checks her phone every two seconds.

She thinks it’s funny, really, how she finds herself delivering advice so easily, yet when it comes to her own life she struggles to follow it.

‘ _Just tell him_ .’ Pfft, as though she could ever do that herself. Who even follows that advice—telling their crush about their hidden feelings? The one time she did it in middle school, her ‘ _crush_ ’ ( _heavy air quotes_ ) had called her disgusting ( _which really hurts when it comes from someone whom you care for_ ) and she had been taunted by him for the rest of the school year.

That was the first and hopefully last time she’d have to go through an experience like that, and what she does to prevent ever having to live through something like that is by disconnecting herself from love. If she has no one to love, there’s no one to confess to, and therefore she won’t have to go through that anymore.

Yeah, one could say she’s overreacting about an incident that occurred when she was 12, but she’s just trying to protect herself.

She put up barriers around her heart, that’s all.

As she rounds a corner nearing the bus stop, her phone chimes in her hand, and she looks at the screen to see a text from…

Armin.

She frowns, her heart involuntarily lurching again.

Well, she _tried_ to put up barriers, at least. It’s just that Armin had managed to worm his way into her life ( _that little, adorable, fucking snake_ ) and melted her defenses away with that warm smile of his and she just can’t seem to put the walls back up around her heart.

The text she received from Armin:

 **[** **_Just wanna confirm, youre coming camping with us tmrw right?_ ** **]**

Annie sighs as she stares at the screen as though she’s the one waiting for a response when really, she should be giving it. She blinks at the screen once, twice, and then finally responds.

[ _Yeah I’m coming_ ]

Well… maybe Armin melting her defenses away won’t be such a bad thing.

Maybe ( _hopefully—God, she fucking hopes_ ) the destruction of the walls she’s built up won’t be such a bad thing.

* * *

And then it’s Thursday and Armin is shoving his clothes into his duffle bag. Once his bag is full of spare clothes, the playing cards Sasha had suggested for him to bring, and other basic things like lotion and such, he yanks the zipper closed and walks to his closet. He plucks a jacket from his closet, tugging it onto his body just as his phone vibrates. He grabs it and sees a message from Eren.

 **[** **_hey you got a spare sleeping bag I can borrow?_ ** **]**

Armin frowns as he types back.

[ _why didn’t you get one before?_ ]

Eren’s response:

 **[** **_I just realized that it has a hole_ ** **]**

[ _why don’t you share one with Mikasa? I’m sure you’d looove that_ ]

 **[** **_shut up_ ** **]**

 **[** **_listen do you have a spare or not?_ ** **]**

[ _yah yah lemme ask my roommate_ ]

Armin steps out of his room, his duffle bag slung over his shoulder and his own sleeping bag rolled up and tucked underneath his arm. His roommate is in the kitchen when he enters, hunched over by the fridge, and digging through it in search of food.

“Hey, do you have a sleeping bag?” Armin asks.

His roommate looks over his shoulder back at Armin. “Uh, no.” He shakes his head, closing the fridge after he fishes out a box of donuts. “Who brings a sleeping bag to _college_?”

Armin sighs, shrugging. “I needed one for my friend. Eren.”

His roommate hums, nodding his head in recognition. “Mikasa’s boyfriend?”

“They’re not official.”

His roommate pauses as he picks out a glazed donut just to stare at Armin. “How is that even possible?”

Armin shrugs. “They’re a mystery.”

“They’re definitely sleeping with each other though.”

Armin nods as though that's a given. "Of course they are.” It's no surprise, really, that his two best friends have been fucking behind closed doors. Mikasa chooses to stay quiet about their relationship, Eren is more loudmouthed, which results in a weird mix in which Eren would bring up the fact that Mikasa is his sweetheart only for the girl to instantly hush him with a bright red blush. Either way, the two aren't very inconspicuous (it's funny, really, how sometimes they think they're so sneak when they aren't), so it isn't hard to come to the conclusion that something _is_ at least happening between the two of them with the way Eren will openly flirt with her from time to time.

At least they're happy, which is all Armin could really care about. Their relationship status is a mystery, but not so much of one which has everyone frustratedly trying to figure out what it is.

Armin takes his phone out, responding to Eren’s question from before.

[ _looks like you’re outta luck. No sleeping bags here_ ]

 **[** **_damn_ ** **]**

 **[** **_I’ll figure something out_ ** **]**

 **[** **_you at Mika’s yet?_ ** **]**

[ _no, I’m leaving rn_ ]

Armin shuts his phone off and slides it into his back pocket. “Well, I’m off.”

“Have fun camping!” His roommate calls out as Armin nears the front door, already having put his shoes on in his room.

“Thanks, Jean,” Armin replies, swinging the door open before he leaves.

His car is where it always is as he heads outside—under the parking area designated to his apartment number specifically—and he shoves all of his belongings into the backseat before he gets into the driver’s seat. Then, he starts to drive off.

“Camping…” he mutters as though it’s just now processing in his head. He can’t help but sound dejected.

Don’t get him wrong, it does sound exciting, it’s just that…

He sighs.

Can you blame him for acting like this? He’ll be spending the night out _with_ Annie ( _!!!_ ). His heart starts to race for all the _wrong_ reasons.

Camping…

With Annie…

And _alcohol_.

Armin cringes at that last thought. Alcohol and Annie. The two don’t mix because they _shouldn’t_. Last time Armin had seen Annie get drunk, she kissed him, and the shock he felt was so immense in which it had him _pushing her away_.

But the minute she opened her gorgeous blue eyes and they found his, he felt nothing but regret. Shit, he should've done that. He should’ve _fucking_ done that.

Annie avoided him after that and although it hurt, he kind of understood why. Hell, if he were in her shoes, he might’ve done the exact same thing. 

But sometimes at night, he finds himself reliving that moment. The moment where they had laughed hysterically at one of his dorky jokes. The moment where their laughter had subsided and they just _looked_ at each other. The moment Annie leaned in and he didn’t lean away. The moment Annie kissed him. The moment he _pushed_ her away.

“Crap.” He frowns and shakes his head, trying to get that thought out it.

If he could go back in time he wouldn’t push her away—no, he would’ve grabbed onto her and pulled her _closer_. If only he hadn’t pulled away… if only he hadn’t pushed her… if only…

‘ _The destruction of our friendship is my fault and I know it_ ,’ he thinks. His frown grows deeper. His heart sinks lower to his stomach.

Alcohol…

He remembers how she had blamed her actions on the alcohol. If she wasn’t drunk, maybe she wouldn’t have kissed him and he wouldn’t have pushed her away and they would’ve stayed friends. If she wasn’t drunk…

“ _Bad things happen with me when there’s alcohol involved,_ ” she had said two days ago in Eren’s kitchen. Armin had heard her—although he was sure that he wasn’t supposed to since it was uttered quietly rather than spoken audibly—and he can’t help but wonder if one of those _bad things_ she was referring to happen to be their kiss.

Honking from behind him starts him out of his thoughts and Armin realizes that he’s been stationary at a green light so he quickly steps on the gas pedal. He turns into Mikasa’s neighborhood, parking on the edge of the sidewalk before he gets out of his car. 

In front of him, a car pulls up and parks in front of his before two people climb out of the front seats—Sasha and Connie—and Sasha seems to be buzzing with energy.

“Hi, Armin!” She calls out to him excitedly, her loud voice echoing off the walls of the nearby houses. Connie pops his trunk open and starts to unload their stuff.

“Hey, Sash,” he replies, tugging his duffle bag onto his shoulder. Sasha watches the door to the passenger seat of his car almost expectantly before she frowns.

“Where’s Annie?” She asks.

Armin shrugs. “Probably still on her way here.”

The look Sasha gives him afterward is of such bewilderment in which it has Armin looking around for something that might be the source of her confusion. What’s so confusing about Annie being on her way to their place of meeting?

“You mean, she’s not with you?” Sasha asks.

Armin cocks a brow at her, clicking a button on his keys which had his car locking automatically. “Why would she be with me?”

“Well, aren’t you guys a thing?”

Armin’s cocked brow raises higher. Why does Sasha seem so confused? Armin is floored. “What do you mean?” He asks.

Sasha uses a finger to gesture vaguely between herself and Connie. “You know, like how Connie and I are a thing.”

Armin feels heat crawl up the back of his neck at this. He and Annie like Sasha and Connie? No, that’s ridiculous. No one even truly knows what’s going on with the latter pair. 

Sasha has no trouble mentioning from time to time that she’s Connie’s… _thing_ and Connie has shamelessly announced multiples to Eren and Armin while he was high that he’ll ‘ _totally do Sasha from time to time whenever he felt like it_ ’, as he had chosen to oh-so graciously word it. Even though the two never felt any inclination to label whatever their relationship or what transpired between them behind closed doors is, there isn’t exactly much left to imagine.

So for Armin and Annie to be a… a _thing_ like Sasha and Connie is…

It’s…

 _“Oh my days_ ,” Armin audibly breathes out. His face is hot red.

Sasha tilts her head innocently at him. “What’s with that reaction?”

Armin looks up at her, throat dry and his face sweltering. “ _God no_ , Sasha. Annie and I _aren’t_ a thing,” he says. He swallows dryly.

Sasha cocks an incredulous brow. “Really?” It sounds like a tease, but she also sounds genuinely baffled.

“ _Yes_ really,” Armin shoots back. He doesn’t know why but he feels so… so… defensive, for some reason.

“Hey, guys!” The sound idea Eren’s loud and drawling voice captures all of their attention. They turn to watch his figure step out of Mikasa’s house, a smile stretched onto his lips. “When’d you get here?”

“Just now,” Connie replies, grabbing his rucksack and pulling it onto his shoulders. He must’ve not heard the conversation between Sasha and Armin, already too preoccupied with his own tasks.

“Where’s Annie?” Eren asks, scanning the lawn.

“I don’t know. Ask Armin,” Sasha suggests.

Armin’s face grows impossibly warmer. “ _Sasha!_ ” He hisses, quietly and strained.

Eren cocks a brow but then smirks. “Ah, yes Armin. Where _is_ Annie?”

Armin looks so terribly flustered, Eren nearly feels back for his friend.

 _Nearly_.

“I-I…”

The sound of a car coming to a screeching halt has Armin’s words dying on his tongue and as he turns around, he’s flooded with relief as he sees Annie get out of Hitch’s car. She thanks her driver for the ride before she exits, her own duffle and sleeping bag in tow.

“Hey, guys,” she says, walking onto the sidewalk. She keeps a safe distance away from Armin to prevent her heart from doing that weird lurchy thing it likes to do around him.

“There you are.” Eren turns back to the house. “Now that you’re all here, let me go get Mika.” And then he disappears into the house.

“Sasha, can I get a little hand here?” Connie asks, holding up his full arms to show how busied his forelimbs are.

“Ah, right. Sorry.” She walks over to him and grabs their sleeping bags and just at that moment, the garage starts to pull open. They all watch as the garage door lifts upwards to reveal a sleek black pickup truck inside, Mikasa and her uncle standing right beside it. Eren exits the house just as that moment as well.

“You better not get a speck of dirt in my car,” the older male growls as he tosses his niece the car keys.

Mikasa rolls her eyes, nodding nonetheless. “Yeah, yeah, I know.” She grabs the keys and opens the car with a click of a button. Levi turns away from his niece and scans the front lawn where Mikasa’s group of friends are before he sighs.

“God, I really hope you don’t fuck up my car,” he murmurs before he leaves, retreating back into the house.

Mikasa sighs, then walks over to her fellow companions to help them haul their bags into the back of the pickup truck. “Ignore him,” she says, taking one of the sleeping bags Sasha carries into her own arms. “He’s just a clean freak, it doesn’t matter.”

“Trust me, we know,” Eren groans in reply as he helps Connie with one of his bags. 

They load their stuff into the back of the truck and when they’re done, they all climb into the vehicle. It’s only a five-seater, and as Mikasa drives and Eren sits in the passenger’s seat, Connie, Sasha, Armin, and Annie remain squished in the backseat.

“You said Levi’s car was big enough for all of us!” Sasha whines as she struggles to get comfortable.

“It’s big enough for me.” Mikasa shrugs as she turns on the ignition.

Sasha rolls her eyes as she slumps back against the leather seat, groaning petulantly.

“Why don’t one of you just sit on the other’s lap?” Eren teases with an impish smirk playing on his lips.

Sasha scoffs at his suggestions, but Armin feels color rise to his face. Eren was joking, he was just joking…

But fuck, now Armin can’t get the image of Annie sitting on his lap out of his head. He quickly tries to shake the thought away, but it stays there, lingering in his mind. And what _doesn’t_ help is when Armin’s eyes nervously dart around the car which leads to them landing on Annie, and there he sees her staring right at him with a blush as prominent as his.

They both quickly look away.

“This is annoying,” Sasha groans. “Connie, I’m gonna lean on you,” she murmurs.

Connie shrugs, not bothered by the suggestion. In fact, he seems less than bothered, he seems welcoming to the idea, because he then shifts so that Sasha has easy access to his torso which then results in Sasha leaning against the male which her feet hooked up against the armrest console. Although she may have gotten comfortable now, now Armin and Annie are squished together and Armin feels his heart rate pick up as he holds his breath.

 _‘Shit shit shit, I’m next to her I’m next to her I’m next to her,_ ’ he thinks as their thighs press together and their elbows bump. He squeezes his eyes shut. Fuck, he feels like he’s going to suffer from tachycardia if this continues.

“Uh, guys,” he manages to squeak out through his internal panic, eyes opening as he speaks, “how long is the drive there?”

“Forty minutes. Maybe an hour, if there’s traffic,” Mikasa replies, eyes flitting to her phone which has the GPS displayed on her screen. “The ETA says fifty,” she tacks on before she looks back to the road.

Armin swallows and closes his eyes again.

‘ _Well shit. This is going to be a long road trip…_ ’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the next chapter will be a long one... and a doozy. im debating on splitting the camping trip into more than one chapter because if I limit it to one I might have to cut out some scenes but i don't wanna milk it for too long in which it becomes tedious.   
> at most, though, the camping trip will be three, which i doubt will happen. i might just split it into two chapters that are 5k words each, but we'll see


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im just going to apologize in advance because just wriTING THIS MADE MY HEART HURT SO I DONT EVEN WANNA IMAGINE HOW YOU GUYS ARE GONNA FEEL. just... please... dont hurt me. i have a family and a chicken i need to care for ;-;

‘ _ Maybe, if I avoid being alone with her when she’s drunk, we won’t do anything regrettable _ ,’ Armin tells himself. It’s been what he’s been telling himself since the day everyone planned the camping trip. He had spent those three days leading up to this Thursday ruminating on that thought—going through all the ways he could avoid any accidents with Annie. ‘ _ I can do this. It’s not impossible _ ,’ he had thought to himself. ‘ _ It’s not impossible. It’s not impossible. _ ’

Just don’t be alone with her when she’s drunk—it’s simple—it’s _not_ impossible. They’re hanging out with their friends anyway, so it’s not likely he’ll be isolated with her. Just avoid an inebriated Annie. Simple.

_ ‘Or… maybe I could just…  _ stop _ Annie from drinking any alcohol.’ _

He quickly shook that thought away when it had first come to mind a couple of days ago.

No, that’s not a good solution—it’s not like he can control her or anything.

But still, he can’t quell the anxiety that builds in his stomach.

When they all finish setting up the two tents that Mikasa had graciously bought for them to sleep in, the sun starts to set, and the colors orange and magenta have made their way into the once-baby blue sky. There’s a cooler filled with ice off to the side, packed with nothing but alcohol, water, and sprite, and now Eren and Connie start to prepare the meat Eren’s brung so they can cook it later.

They’re camping by a reservoir that’s a twenty-minute hike away from where they had parked, and over the water, Armin can see the sun draw nearer and nearer the horizon.

He has to admit, it looks pretty damn beautiful.

“We should get some logs to sit on,” Mikasa suggests as she rises to her feet from where she previously sat on the floor.

“Oooh! I wanna come with!” Sasha excitedly exclaims, springing to her feet.

Mikasa gives the brunette a tiny glare. “Are you sure you’re going to help me?”

Sasha mocks being provoked with a playful scoff. “Of course I will,” she proclaims, marching over to Mikasa and looping her arm through the other girl’s forelimb. “Come on, let’s go get some logs!”

Mikasa rolls her eyes but doesn’t protest as Sasha guides them into the greenery before they disappear behind some trees and thick bushes.

And then it’s just Armin and Annie.

Well, not really—Connie and Eren are still here, but they’re preoccupied with the meat, meaning that Armin and Annie have to entertain themselves before Mikasa and Sasha return. Armin peers over at the girl who sits on the grass beside one of the large tents, his heart thudding in his chest as he does.

_ ‘Okay, this is fine. I’m fine. We’re fine. We haven’t drunk any of Connie’s beer yet, so- _ ’

“Hey, Armin, pass me a beer from the cooler, will ya?”

Armin fucking  _ shivers _ when he hears this. Great. Fucking fantastic. And here he thought they might actually be able to go to sleep without anyone hammered. ( _ He’s wrong, so  _ so  _ very wrong. _ )

“Armin?” Connie’s voice calls him back to attention.

“Huh? What?” He looks around and realizes that he had just been silent—shit—he quickly springs up to his feet. “Oh, yeah sure,” he squeaks out. He makes his way over to the tiny cooler, popping the lid open and viewing the contents. Hard liquor, beer, sprite, and water—what else did he expect?

With shaking fingers, he reaches inside the cooler and takes out a can of beer. His palms are sweaty as he shuts the cooler and walks over to Connie.

_ ‘Fine. I’m fine. It’s just Connie drinking the beer, not anyone else, _ ’ he thinks to himself, trying to calm himself down. He really shouldn’t be this nervous when all he’s doing is  _ holding _ a beer can—he’s not even going to drink it, for fuck’s sake. But in his peripheral vision, he sees the way Annie’s eyes follow the cold beverage in his hand—eyes wide and nervous, yet also…

...something else that he can’t quite identify.

He turns to Annie to get a better look and when she quickly looks away, he’s left even more confused and anxious. But then she looks at him once more before her eyes dart away and he  _ sees  _ it—he knows what that other emotion dancing around in her eyes is.

Anticipation—excitement—thrill, all at once.

He feels fucking sick as he looks away.

“SHIT! FUCKING CHRIST, MAN!”

Armin quickly jumps back and away from the beer can on the floor. Shit—he had dropped it—are his hands really that clammy?

“Fuck, Armin,” Connie sighs as he bends down and picks up the drink, “be careful.” He extends his hand a good distance away from him as he cracks the can open—it opens and the minute it does, the brew starts to fizz out and overflow, dripping down Connie’s forearm. He’s quick to drink it before it continues to make a mess and Armin looks away guiltily, knowing that if he hadn’t dropped it with his stupid clammy fingers then this mess wouldn’t be happening.

He looks at Annie again—one more time, but just to see how she’s reacting to all of this—and she stares at Connie with her blue eyes a fraction wider than they were before. Armin quickly realizes that, no, it’s not Connie, but instead she’s staring at the beer can with wide, intrigued eyes, and when she licks her lips Armin’s heart pulsates harder as he looks away.

He exhales slowly, trying to calm his raging heart.

_ ‘Just avoid being alone with her when she’s drunk so nothing happens,’ _ he reminds himself. ‘ _ Don’t be fucking stupid, Alert.’ _

( _ Turns out, he’s pretty fucking stupid. _ )

* * *

Mikasa and Sasha return not too long after that with two large logs in tow. They set up a place around where the fire would be to sit, and now the six of them are seated on two of the logs with the bonfire lit right in between the two makeshift benches. Armin sits with Sasha and Annie and on the other side are Eren, Connie, and Mikasa.

“I want a beer!” Sasha exclaims as she heads over to the cooler. She takes out one, then looks over her shoulder back to the group behind her. Then, she pops her head up excitedly with a grin. “Hey, why don’t we all do some shots?”

“No-”

“Ah, you can’t say no!” Sasha quickly butts into Annie’s statement with a shake of her head. “We’re  _ all _ drinking tonight.” She fishes out an unopened ornate glass bottle, then stalks towards Mikasa’s duffle bag where she had put all the shot glasses.

Annie sighs, propping her elbow on her thigh as she hunches forward and rests her face on her fists. “Whatever, but I’m not going to get drunk,” she murmurs.

Armin lets out a little sigh of relief at that. He can at least hope she won’t.

Sasha returns with six shot glasses filled with liquor, walking around and handing each glass to everyone before she’s down to one for herself. Then, “cheers!”

“Cheers!” All except for Annie exclaims in return, raising their glasses in the air before they dowse their shots. Armin cringes as the harsh liquid slips down his throat and as he pulls the shot glass away, he feels himself buzz from the inside out.

It’s exhilarating, really—the feeling of alcohol rushing down his throat and arousing him the inside. It’s like a wake-up call, almost.

“That was gross,” Annie says after she drinks her shot. She pulls the glass away from her mouth with a grimace, her nose scrunching up before she furiously rubs at it with her forefinger—probably from the sting that always follows the ingesting of hard liquor. Armin smiles a bit at her expression. ‘ _ Cute. _ ’

“Oh, don’t act like you don’t like it,” Sasha playfully chastises, slinging her arm around Annie’s shoulder.

“I don’t,” Annie replies simply, shrugging the brunette off.

Sasha shrugs, stalking back towards the cooler to take out her can of beer from before. “Oh, Mikasa,” she begins, walking back over to sit down on a large log by the fire, “I saw some glowsticks in your bag. What are those for?”

“I thought we could play a game,” Mikasa admits.

“A game?” Connie echoes, the two words forming together. He already sounds drunk—he did drink two cans of beer  _ and _ the shots they just took together as a group.

“Oh, I know what she’s talking about,” Eren says. “At her college, they like to play capture the flag.”

“In the dark?” Connie asks.

“No, with the glowsticks,” Mikasa corrects. “That’s how we did it at my college, at least. We put them in empty water bottles and used them as the flags.”

Sasha nods vehemently. “Sounds fun. I’m in!”

“Let’s split into two teams of three,” Eren suggests. “I’m with Connie.”

“Yes,” Connie proclaims in agreement, bumping his fist against Eren’s. “Mikasa, you’re with us. You have pretty good stamina.”

“No, let’s give the other team a chance,” Eren taunts.

“Oh come on! We’re a good team!” Sasha cries in response, gesturing vaguely to the two blondes beside her.

“I beg to differ,” Eren shoots back with a grin.

“I’ll take Mikasa over you any day,” Annie chimes in.

Sasha gasps, looking over to Annie with wide, half-disbelieving eyes. 

Annie’s joking—obviously, she’s joking—because that’s just how they all are with each other—they tease and taunt and treat each other with shit because that’s just what their friendship is. Underneath all of their feigned derisions, they spit towards each other are strong feelings of fondness that they never actually share with each other because  _ ew _ .

But even though Annie’s joking—even though there’s obviously a tiny, nearly unnoticeable-but-still-there smirk playing on her lips that means ‘Im clearly joking’—Sasha still fakes being provoked with an overexaggerated gasp as she brings a hand up to her heart, twisting her hand into her blouse.

“Wow, okay I see how it is.” She harrumphs as she jumps up to her feet and surges toward the other side of the bonfire where her new teammates sit on the makeshift benches. “Prepare to get your ass beat, Leonhardt!”

Armin turns to see Annie just as she rolls her eyes and leans back with a little provocative grin. “We’ll see about that.”

Armin's heart jumps a little and he looks away from Annie. ‘ _ Don’t be stupid, Arlert _ ,’ he reminds himself, but—shit—why is there something so alluring about Annie  _ smiling _ ? Sure, she doesn’t do it a lot—seeing her smile is the equivalent of catching Mikasa laughing (which, you know, isn’t impossible but is also very  _ very _ rare)—but now that she is, Armin can’t help the fact that his heart starts to skip a couple of beats.

“Okay! We’ll set up the flags in the forest,” Eren proclaims, pointing to the aforementioned area covered chiefly in trees, bushes, and other undergrowth. “Let's play from here to the parking lot.”

“Sounds good,” Connie says. Mikasa stands up from where she sits and heads over to her duffle bag, retrieving multiple glow sticks.

“Now, let's get this game of capture the flag started!”

* * *

**Fifteen minutes later**

Sasha  _ knows _ there’s something going on between Annie and Armin. She noticed it four days ago in Eren’s house—when the two blondes had their little game of hide-and-stare—and now that she thinks about, Armin  _ has _ always been a little skittish around Annie at times. It was very rare though. But she also remembers how, sometimes, Armin would become such a flustered mess around the blonde, yet Annie wouldn’t even notice—like the dense motherfucker she is.

But now that  _ Annie _ seems to be reciprocating his acts of fluster, Sasha can pick up on it more easily, and  _ boy _ are they something different.

This, she brings up with Eren as they stalk through the forest towards where the other team’s flag is. Connie is somewhere else on the defensive watching over their own flag.

“So, what’s the deal between Armin and Annie?”

Eren stiffens a bit. “What do you mean?”

Sasha’s brow furrows in response. “Oh, come on. I know you’re dense, but you’re not  _ that _ dense.” She sighs as she follows him through a throng of thick bushes. “What’s going between your best friend and Annie?”

Eren sighs as though he’s seemingly giving in to something before he shrugs. “Honestly, you tell me.”

“But they’re, like, fucking, right?” Sasha suggests with a cock of her brow, genuinely curious.

At this, Eren snorts and has to refrain from guffawing. “Man, the day Armin gets laid is the day pigs fly,” he says with a mirthful roll of his eyes. “Listen, there isn’t anything really going on between them-“

“But they like each other,” Sasha butts in with a matter-of-fact tone.

“Well, yeah, they do. But they aren’t a thing.”

“Yet.”

Eren stops and turns to Sasha and, with the minimum amount of light they’re getting due to the fact that the sun has nearly set, he can see an impish grin on her face. She looks up at him, cocks a brow, and gives him a certain look that tells him that she’s planning something.

No, wait. Not planning…

‘ _ Scheming _ ,’ he thinks.

“What are you planning?” He asks, narrowing his eyes at her—not so much to glare, but more to study her features to try and pry an answer out of them instead in case she doesn’t give him one.

Luckily, she does, and the minute she speaks his eyes are blown wide.

Then, he cocks a brow.

“And how do you plan on doing that?” He asks, questioning her response. He starts to walk forward again, deciding that it’d be best not to stay idle in the event that they want to retrieve the other team’s flag ( _ which they do want to _ ).

“I don’t know,” Sasha honestly replies with a shrug, following right after him. “But I’ll figure something out.”

It’s now Eren’s turn to shrug as he replies with, “Well, good luck with that,” as he steps past two large trees.

His words are genuine; for what Sasha intends to do, she’ll truly need luck on her side.

“Thanks.”

They take a few more steps before they find an opening and Eren halts, making Sasha stop dead in her tracks as she watches him. He carefully steps behind a large oak tree and Sasha follows behind him, hiding behind the tree trunk as Eren peeks past it. Then, he turns back to her with a grin.

“There’s their flag.”

Sasha looks past the trunk too and there she sees flat ground with the other team’s makeshift glow-stick-in-water-bottle of a flag sitting right atop a tree stump. But then she looks around and when she fails to notice Mikasa, Armin, or Annie, she cocks a brow.

“Where are they? Shouldn’t someone be guarding it?” She asks in a hushed tone.

Eren shrugs. “Who knows. Let’s just get it and run.”

Sasha nods, “okay, you go and I’ll stay here.”

Eren nods back in solidarity as he steps forward, jogging towards the tree stump with moss growing around the edges of it with the flag on it. He quickly swipes it up and stares at the empty water bottle in his hand, but just before he can think, ‘ _ that’s it? No booby trap? _ ’, an urgent “Armin, they’ve got the flag!” comes from the bushes in front of him.

A second later, Annie’s figure runs past the foilage and Eren is scampering away.

* * *

**Ten minutes earlier**

“I’ll go and get the flag,” Mikasa says to the rest of her team.

“Wait, what?” Armin asks, wheeling around to face Mikasa. Annie is walking around behind him, searching for a place to put their flag.

“I said, I’m going to get the other team’s flag. You two stay here,” Mikasa repeats.

Armin swallows, his eyes flicking to Annie behind him before they land back on Mikasa. The thought of him being alone with Annie shouldn’t rattle him up so much like this, but it still does. “Shouldn’t you like, g-go with someone else?” He squeaks out, failing to hide his apprehension. “Or maybe you should stay here and… Annie could go.”

Mikasa rolls her eyes. “I’m fast, Armin. And I have good stamina. Just trust me, okay?”

Armin holds his breath.  _ Trust _ isn’t the issue. The  _ issue _ is that he fears to become flustered around Annie and not being able to hide his fluster from her.

He prepares to speak again and force out another excuse that might help keep him from being alone with Annie, but his words die on his tongue when Mikasa’s phone chimes in her pocket. She fishes out her handheld before she types a response to presumably a message she just received.

“Eren just texted me. They’re ready,” she says, slipping her phone into her pocket. “Watch over the flag.”

And with that, Mikasa dashes away, disappearing behind thick layers of greenery, and Armin exhales a breath he forgot he was holding when the shuffle of Mikasa’s footfalls fades away. He realizes, now, that he’s _fucking_ _alone_ with _Annie_ and all of his previous fears climb their way into the forefront of his mind.

_ ‘She isn’t drunk. She only took one shot. She shouldn’t be drunk, nothing back should happen, _ ’ the logical part of his mind thinks, trying (oh-so desperately trying) to reel him away from the state of apprehension that he slowly descends to.

‘ _ But she took a shot! What if she has low alcohol tolerance?! WHAT IF SHE’S WASTED RIGHT NOW?!?! _ ’

“Armin?”

Armin snaps back to reality the moment he hears his own name, turning to Annie who raises a questioning brow at him. She gestures to the tree stump she found right beside her, then to the empty water bottle in her hand, and something about the look on her face tells Armin this isn’t the first time Annie had said his name in the past few minutes.  _ ‘Shit. _ ’

“Y-Yeah?”

“Should I put it here?” Annie asks, probably repeating her question that she had asked Armin before whilst he was enveloped in his thoughts. She holds up the empty bottle for emphasis to her question.

“Oh, yeah sure,” Armin replies with a subtle nod.

Annie nods back, placing the empty water bottle that glows bright yellow from the glow stick inside of it atop the tree stump. She turns back to him and straightens, clearing her throat as her eyes dart away from him.

“Uh, should we... hide? In case someone else comes so we can surprise them,” Annie asks.

Armin nods—a little more vehemently than he probably should’ve—then rakes a hand through his short hair. ”Yeah, h-hiding’s good,” he replies, voice wavering for reasons it shouldn’t be wavering about. He rubs at his forehead with his hands and frowns, eyes scanning their surroundings to find a good hiding place for them.

“There,” he begins, raising a hand to point at the layer of bushes in front of them. “We can hide there…” His voice trails off when he sees Annie staring at, not his face, but at his hand. He sees her audibly swallow, color rising to her cheeks as her tongue darts out to lick her lips. Something flashes in her eyes, something...

‘ _ Lustful. _ ’

That thought has Armin turning bright red and he quickly shakes his head. When his eyes are back on Annie, she’s looking at him normally, although her cheeks are still red.

‘ _ You imagined it, idiot, _ ’ his mind chastises him.

“Uh, th-the bushes,” he stutters out. Fuck—now there’s a lump forming in his throat.

Annie follows where his forefinger points to before she nods in agreement. “That seems fine,” she murmurs.

_ ‘She sounds… embarrassed. Was she actually staring at me like that? _ ’

‘ _ Of course not, you fucking idiot. Don’t be stupid, Arlert. _ ’

He listens to the second voice because it’s better to—if he agrees with the former then he’ll start to think that Annie likes him, which she doesn’t. She made it  _ very _ clear six years ago that she doesn’t harbor any feelings of affection towards him, so he’s better off believing that, lest he gets hurt.

Annie walks forward first and Armin’s brain has to cool down before he can follow after. She steps past the bushes, he follows, and when he turns his back to face the other way he hears her cry out. 

He spins around so quickly he nearly loses his balance.

There he sees Annie take a bad step and slip on an incline that they both failed to notice due to the bushes, so he quickly reaches out and grabs onto her hand to keep her from falling, wrapping his fingers around her wrist before he hauls her up and away from the rocky crevice below. She yelps a bit and to keep both of them from losing their balance, Armin twists his hand into the front of her grey hoodie and wrenches her through the foilage, spinning her body against his.

They take a couple of unsteady steps backward before Armin’s back hits a tree behind him and they come to a stuttering stop, Annie’s back pressed hard against Armin’s chest. They both take in a few uneven breaths before Armin wrenches one eye open and notices the position they’re in. Immediately, his heart rate starts to pick up.

With his hand twisted so tightly in the front of her hoodie, he feels her thundering heart underneath the palm of his hand, and with her body so close to his, tendrils of her blonde hair tickle the bottom of his chin where his face hovers just a few inches above hers. God, they’re so close. He can smell the lingering scent of herbal essence dancing around in her messy bun, most likely from her shampoo, and the earthy scent that radiates off of her due to them being outside and—fuck—Armin wants to bury his face in her shoulder and just  _ inhale _ until he passes out.

Instead, he exhales the minute he becomes lightheaded.

“Uh, Armin?” Annie’s voice appears, so tiny and nearly unnoticeable. Armin swallows—his throat is suddenly dry.

“Y-Yeah?” he croaks out.

“Your… your hand.”

It takes his brain a few minutes to process what she means before Armin flushes bright red, murmuring an apology as he untwists his hand from her hoodie. She makes slip a tiny noise that seems to say that he’s okay as his hand drops slowly, landing at her stomach with his fingers splaying out over the soft fabric.

His fingers still curled around her wrist twitch in terror at the situation they’re in as the hammering of his own heart presses firmly against Annie’s back, spurred on by her heady scent. He can only hope that Annie assumes that his heart is racing because of the sudden exertion earlier, as opposed to the sudden heat his body has taken on that slowly creeps downward… lower…

_ Too fucking low _ .

And yet he holds her tighter.

Armin squeaks when he feels Annie shift against him and he realizes that she must probably be uncomfortable, so he slowly gives her wrist one last squeeze before he uncurls his fingers and releases her, giving her the chance to move away. He hopes that when she steps away, his body will cool and his blush won’t be as noticeable as it feels, but she doesn’t.

She stays put in front of him.

He swallows thickly.

She goes rigid against him and  _ fucking steps back _ ( _!!! _ ), her shoulders digging into his chest, and her sweet scent invading his senses.

God, he can’t take much more of this.

“A-Annie,” he manages, but—fuck, they’re so close in which his lips skim the shell of her ear when he speaks.

Annie shivers and Armin stiffens.

She turns back to face him, her face as bright red as he is, and her lips parted with her quiet gasps. “Yeah?” She murmurs so quietly that her voice could be mistaken for the whisper of the wind.

‘ _ Do you want to move? _ ’ He wants to ask, but the words don’t leave him. He stares, fixated on those blue eyes that peer up at him, the same anticipation from earlier lingering in those gorgeous irises of hers. He reaches out futilely before grabbing onto nothing but air, so he lowers his hand, but then his voice catches in his throat when it lands on her shoulder and he feels her jump underneath his hand. He rubs a soothing hand along the length of the joint, trailing closer to the dip of her clavicle before he lets his fingers linger on her warm skin.

‘ _ God, she’s beautiful. _ ’

Armin uses this word pretty frequently, yes—he calls the ocean beautiful, and seashells beautiful, and the sky beautiful—but he never uses it for people. People are just… people. They’re nice… he guesses.

But Annie doesn’t fall under the category of nice. She doesn’t fall under any categories that Armin can use to describe what the thought of her does to him. She’s so much,  _ too much _ , and in times like these, sometimes the only word he can use to describe is beautiful.

But really, in his opinion, she is  _ so much more _ .

She’s a 'so much more' that Armin wants.

No, not wants.

Armin  _ yearns _ for her. He  _ loves _ her.

He’s unraveling.

He leans forward (‘ _ What are you doing you dumbass? _ ’), slowly traces his hand up Annie’s jugular and touches her fair chin (‘ _ Stop! Stop it!’ _ ), then places his hand under her chin and tilts it upwards. Annie immediately meets his eyes with nothing but a surprised gaze, but she isn’t resisting.

“Tell me…” he begins, his voice suddenly hoarse, “to stop,” he whispers, desperate, knowing that if she doesn’t speak he might just keep going.

She doesn’t.

He keeps going.

Annie is shaking, but so is he. His fingers slowly reach up and brush over her flushed cheek, bringing her body impossibly closer to his as he continues to indulge in the feeling of her with him. He brings his hand back down to cup her chin and Annie leans into his touch this time, eyes fluttering shut as she exhales against him, soft and sensuous, and Armin’s resolve snaps.

In a swift motion, he’s got Annie’s lips captured between his.

He instantly _melts_ because—fuck—now he’s met with two dilemmas

(1) Her lips are soft, taste faintly of jack daniel's from earlier, and are  _ addictive _ , and (2) she starts to fucking  _ kiss him back _ .

The angle is awkward yet perfect with how Annie’s lips move in sync with his, parting for him, giving  _ him _ the access he’s always wanted from her, and the tiny noise of surprise she makes when Armin’s tongue slips effortlessly into her mouth sends a fire racing up his spine. She reaches her hands up and tangles it through his hair, tugging at the blond strands as though she’s telling Armin that, ‘no, you can’t go, not yet.’

If he’s being honest, he doesn’t mind.

He doesn’t want to leave either.

She presses herself closer to him, making him lean impossibly closer to the tree with her chest flattened against his as Armin tucks a leg between her thighs. She sighs against his lips, her tiny noise of pleasure dampened by his prodding tongue.

‘ _ I love this, _ ’ his mind sluggishly thinks,  _ ‘I love her. I love Annie and her blonde hair and her blue eyes and her adorable pouts and her teases and taunts and her smiles and- _ ’

“Armin, they’ve got the flag!”

Armin blinks, his rampant imagination scattering as he’s dragged back to reality by the sound of Annie’s urgent voice. He sags hopelessly against the tree, frowning as he lets the image of those blue eyes once filled with anticipation melt away into the depths of his mind to return for him to think about at night when he should be asleep.

‘ _ Yeah right. You sure have an active imagination, don’t you, Arlert? _ ’

It’s only now when it processes in his mind  _ why _ Annie had yelled in the first place and his eyes immediately snap up, watching as Annie’s figure dashes past the shrubs towards Eren who holds their flag in his hands. He sluggish at first, but then he’s jumping to action, running after Annie and following her in her pursuit towards the brunet male who sprints way from her, cackling as he makes his great escape.

Annie lets out a string of curses before she’s right on Eren’s tail and suddenly his laughter dies down with his uncertainty spiking before Annie has herself leaping onto him. He yelps in surprise, holding their flag away from Annie’s roaming fingers and twists his neck behind him to Sasha who stands behind the trees.

“Sasha! Catch!” He calls, throwing the empty bottle in her direction.

She snags it in her grasp, tucking it tightly between her fingers before she runs towards their own base.

Armin makes to run after her, but then Mikasa appears and steps forward with the other team’s flag in her hand. She holds it up victoriously, although her face is stoic and holds no excitement.

“I’m back,” she simply says.

Sasha stammers when she comes to a stop, running back over to just gape at Mikasa. “What?! How? You cheated!” She cries, obviously distraught.

Mikasa shrugs. “Connie is slow.”

“Hey!” Comes Connie’s offended voice from behind her, tired and exasperated as he crumples to his feet when he’s next to her, gulping air down his throat. “You’re—”  _ —gasp— _ “j-just… just freak—”  _ —gasp— _ “freakishly  _ fast _ .”

Mikasa shrugs again. “We win.”

Sasha lets out a disgruntled moan of distress, frowning before she says, “rematch!”

Armin’s heart sinks to his stomach when those two syllables process, afraid that if he’s alone with Annie again, he just might  _ actually _ kiss her.

Which would, undoubtedly, change their friendship forever.

For better or worse—he’s not in favor of finding out.

“We’re probably just going to lose again,” Eren groans in a matter-of-fact tone

Sasha glowers at him, pouting. “Not if I have a say in it!” She loops an arm around Mikasa, then drags Annie off of Eren’s body and pulls the three of them together. “Girls against guys!”

Eren shrugs as he rises to his feet. “Alright. Sure,” he shakes his limbs before he walks over to where Connie brings himself up to his feet, still heaving for air. “Armin you coming?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah.” Armin spins around and follows after Eren, relief flooding at the fact that he won’t have to be alone with Annie this time. Maybe, he might be able to enjoy this round, regardless of if his team wins or not. Maybe this time, Anne won’t be the only thing on his mind. Maybe...

God, fucking  _ maybe _ .

* * *

Twenty or so minutes later, Sasha is whooping as they all make their way back to where they’re camping at, obviously joyous about her victory against the boys which she has no trouble boasting about in their faces. Not that it really matters, anyways—Annie knew that they would win the minute Sasha proclaimed that she and Mikasa would be on the same team. Their victory was decided before the match even started.

But Sasha still brags about it.

When they’re back at their campsite, Mikasa shoves the glow sticks back into her duffle bag as Annie chooses to sit at the edge of the bank, not wanting to be around Sasha lest the brunette makes her drink another shot and wanting to avoid Armin because…

Because…

“Shit,” she murmurs, rubbing her hand down the length of her warm face. Thinking about Armin has her thinking back to earlier that evening when his hand twisted against the front of her hoodie and she was pulled so close to his body in which she felt the literal warmth radiating off of him and—shit—she remembers how she was ready to just  _ melt _ in his arms. She was acting so awkward, she’s sure he noticed, and—fucking God— _ why did he keep looking at her like  _ that _? _

Reminiscing on how his lips were right next to her ear has her shivering again and she wishes for another moment like that, but instead next time she’ll spin around and snake her arms around his neck and pull his gorgeous face down to crash their lips together.

Next time.

Next time…

‘ _ There will be no next time _ .’

A cold chill presses against her cheek and Annie yelps a bit, jolting out of her thoughts to see Mikasa standing behind her with two bottles of beer, holding one right beside Annie’s face.

“You look like shit,” Mikasa says, not bothering to sugarcoat it.

“I know,” Annie murmurs back, not bothering to quip a response because she knows that she  _ must _ look as sick as she feels.

Well, not sick necessarily, but more like… conflicted.

Mikasa cocks a brow at the blonde’s simple response, joining her to sit at the edge of the bank where the water sits a good number of feet below them. “No retaliation?” Mikasa questions, cracking open her can of beer.

Annie shakes her head. “None,” she grumbles.

Mikasa hums, taking a few thoughtful sips of her beer as they both overlook the water. Annie is more hesitant to drink. Mikasa must notice her hesitance because she quickly says, “you know you can drink, right?”

“I know. I just…” Annie shrugs at her lack of excuses and leans back. Her stomach churns uncomfortably.

“Armin, huh?”

Annie stiffens, leaning forward quickly and turning to Mikasa with wide eyes. “Wh-What…” Her voice comes out gravelly, so she quickly clears her throat before continuing, “What do you mean?” She doesn’t notice she’s whispering until the words have already left her.

“What else would I mean?” Mikasa replies simply, taking a sip of her beer. Annie doesn’t catch on—she’s too busy worrying that maybe Mikasa saw them when she and Armin were against that tree earlier—so she instead continues to look at Mikasa with wide, disbelieving eyes.

Finally, Mikasa turns away from the sky to look at the suddenly distraught blonde before her and raises an incredulous brow as if to say ‘you really don’t know?’. “Your kiss,” she states quickly.

Annie is still perplexed.

Mikasa sighs. “In high school, when you were drunk and you kissed Armin,” she says, gesturing vaguely with her right hand which still holds her beer bottle. “I thought that was why you don’t want to drink,” she clarifies.

Annie swallows when her brain finally puts the pieces together and her head snaps up in relief. Of course, Mikasa didn’t mean earlier. They were alone at that time.

She gulps.

‘ _ We were alone… _ ’

She nervously rolls her ring on her thumb and forces those thoughts away.

“Y-Yeah… that’s uhh… I guess you could say that,” Annie murmurs. 

“Just don’t hold yourself back if you want to,” Mikasa advises simply. She shrugs and takes another sip of her beer before she adds, “I don’t see why you should be scared of making the same mistake you did when you were sixteen. You twenty-two now, give yourself some credit.”

Annie frowns and looks down at the unopened beer in her head, a myriad of emotions flying through her mind, all contrasting yet still somehow making sense with one another.

Should she drink? It’s not she doesn’t want to…

“I’m going back,” Mikasa says after seconds of silence. She rises to her feet and turns back to the rest of their friends where Sasha rambles on and on about some nonsense that no one understands but is still entertained by. She glances at Armin who sits on of log, but instead of listening to Sasha’s endless story of nonsense, he’s been looking out at her and Annie. No—not her and Annie, just  _ Annie _ .

Armin’s head shifts and when his gaze meets Mikasa’s, his eyes quickly dart away as his face turns red.

“What the…” she mutters. She turns back to Annie.

No, Annie’s not looking at Armin—he was just… just  _ staring _ at Annie.

Why?

“What is it?” Annie asks, turning back to face Mikasa.

Mikasa continues to look on with bewilderment before she shrugs and sighs, deciding not to dig deeper as she takes another sip of her beer. “Nothing,” she murmurs back. “Have fun out here.” And then she walks back to where the rest of the group is.

Annie is left watching Mikasa’s retreating back before she looks down at the beer in her hand—this time, she’s glowering at it, gripping it harder out of frustration.

This is stupid. Her trepidation is stupid. A stupid mistake she made as a teenager shouldn’t be this fazing to her regarding the fact that she’s 22, but—fucking Christ, can you  _ blame _ her?

She exhales a breath she hadn’t noticed she was holding and loosens her tight grip from the can before her fingers start to indent it.

“This is stupid,” she murmurs. She swallows hard—the longer she stares at the can, the more her abstinence begins to crumble.

“This is so fucking stupid,” she mutters again, shaking her head this time.

She pushes her blonde bangs out of her eyes and tucks it behind her ear.

And then she’s cracking the can of beer open and chugging its contents.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I KNOW I KNOW AND IM SORRY OKAY!! ONLY FIVE CHAPTERS AND IVE ALREADY PUT YOU THROUGH THIS AND IM SORRY.
> 
> really, i promise to _N E V E R_ do this to you guys again.
> 
> but then agaaaain... never say never.
> 
> _okayimjokingipromiseiwont_


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GOOD LORD. this chapter might be the longest one yet and its 8k words. AND TO THINK, this chapter was supposed to be combined with the one before this. Jesus.

“HEY! FOLLOW ME IF YOU’RE NOT A PUSSY!”

Everyone watches, mainly amused as Sasha jumps to the top of the rocks at the edge of the bank, making some nonsensical noise that indicates just how jovial and drunk she is.

Annie watches her friend with a mirthful roll of her eyes, smiling as she takes a sip of her sprite. Just ten minutes ago (or maybe it was thirty—no one’s really been keeping track) Sasha had induced her friends to partake in another round of shots, and then another, and another until Mikasa had to physically pry the bottle of jack daniel’s out of Sasha’s hands before she killed everyone, including herself, with alcohol poisoning.

But now they were all drunk, and they’re all _stupid_ drunk. Sasha had gotten her phone and speaker out and started to play some random pop music, and Annie was instantly taken back to six years ago when she had first gotten drunk in Historia’s backyard with some random pop artists blaring from the speakers. She has to shake that memory away every now and then because she refuses to let something that happened more than half a decade ago haunt her right now.

She’s here to have fun, goddammit, not to reminiscence on a horrible mistake she made in the past.

“Sasha, you’re going to get yourself killed,” Mikasa deadpans as she throws a rack of ribs onto the grill after Eren had seasoned it.

“Oh yeah?” Sasha taunts, stepping dangerously close to the edge. “Why don’t you follow me and see!”

They look on as Sasha throws off her blouse and shorts, stripping down to her boyshorts and bra before she cheers and jumps over the edge. They hear a splash as they continue to look onward, wondering what the fuck just happened before Connie rises shakily to his feet and says, “alright, let’s go check if she died.”

“You guys go on. Mika and I will keep grilling,” Eren says.

“Oh, no thank you. I’ll stay here,” Armin says, not bothering to move from where he sits on the log beside Connie.

“What? Do you not know how to swim?” Connie taunts.

“Of course I know how to swim,” Armin hisses back defensively.

“Then,” Connie grabs onto Armin’s wrist and pulls him off the log and towards the edge of the bank, “come on!”

“No! Dude, what the hell?” Armin cries, struggling in vain against Connie’s iron grip until the man has the both of them standing at the edge of the bank.

Armin peers downward and when he sees Sasha in the water below, cheering and whooping, he flings his arm out and gestures to her. “See? She’s fine! So-”

“So let’s join her!” Connie cuts in, pushing Armin first before he jumps right after him. Armin cries out and Annie walks over to the edge, smirking as she watches the bodies submerse in the water. Not too soon after, Armin’s head pops up above the water as he gasps before he glares at Connie who just laughs.

Annie snickers a bit to herself too.

  
But then she feels two hands push her forward and she twists her head behind her to only catch a glimpse of Eren’s dubious smirk as she trips over the edge, his arms out and palms facing her.

“Have fun!” He calls, cackling right after as Annie falls in the water.

It takes her a moment before she resurfaces, gulping air into her lungs and wiping the water from her eyes with her soaked hoodie sleeves. Her blue eyes pop open and she looks up at Eren who looks down at her with a smirk and she glowers—her glare similar to the one Armin had given their shave-headed friend earlier.

“Not funny, Jeager!” She barks, although there's no real heat to her words.

Eren chuckles right afterward, dismissing her before he heads back to where the grill and Mikasa are.

Annie turns and watches as Connie ignores Armin’s cries of complaints at him, swimming over to Sasha to join her and leaving Armin alone and bothered. Annie watches, mesmerized, as he runs a hand through his blond locks, pushing the wet strands out of his face to further reveal his scowl. The moonlight bounces off of his skin and the water around them and Annie’s breath hitches in her throat, eyes going wide as her heart lurches at the sight of him. He rubs a hand down his wet face and Annie swallows thickly, absolutely captivated by his… his _everything_.

He turns to face Annie and his glare slowly melts into a softer expression—fondness flickers through his blue eyes and when he smiles, Annie finds herself turning bright red and she’s thankful it’s dark. She looks away quickly, cupping her hands under the cold water and splashing it onto her face to wash away the blush that invades her cheeks. The iciness to the water has her sobriety slowly returning.

“You okay? I saw Eren push you off,” Armin asks.

Annie swallows and nods, finally raising her gaze to meet his again with an awkward smile. “Yeah, I’m fine,” she murmurs back. ‘I should be asking you that,’ she thinks since—it’s something she would quip in response.

Armin laughs a bit and when Annie looks up at him, she can tell that—judging by the sudden vibration which’s hum slowly dies away from her vocal cords—she must’ve said it anyway. It just probably didn’t process in her brain.

And then they stare at each other.

And when Armin gives her that crooked smile of his, her heart skips a beat.

‘ _I love him_.’

A sudden squeal pierces the air and they both turn to see Connie throw his arms out and splash a wave of water in Sasha’s direction. The girl shrieks in response but instantly starts splashing back until Armin and Annie get caught in the crossfire.

“Hey!” Annie bites when the wave Sasha had aimed at Connie veers terribly off course and hits her instead. She splashes Sasha back and Armin joins in until the four of them are just splashing waves of water at each other and laughing and whooping and when Annie gets splashed from behind, she spins around and when she sees Armin staring at her with a taunting smile, her heart leaps again for what seems to be the time fortieth time that day.

“Sorry,” he says, but he doesn’t sound sorry one bit.

“Oh, you’ll pay for that, Arlert,” Annie playfully jeers, splashing a wave right back at him. He ducks underwater and Annie looks around for him before there’s a pull on her leg and before she can even identify it, she’s being dragged underwater.

Her yelp of surprise is cut off once her head is submerged and she holds her breath, eyes opening and stinging under the water to see Armin looking young at her with that crooked grin of his.

This is… a sight she could get used to.

Wait, no. Actually, it isn’t because—they’re underwater.

After nearly a minute, Annie and Armin quickly resurface simultaneously once their lungs begin to scream for air and they gasp for breath.

Armin whips his hair back with a swift motion of his hand and Annie looks away again—this time, she frowns when her heart leaps.

Her sobriety is slowly returning from the ice-cold touch of the water and with it, it brings her inhibitions.

‘ _Stop it,_ ’ she thinks to herself. ‘ _He likes someone. He likes someone else. Stop it._ ’

“What the hell?”

Annie pulls herself away from her thoughts to face Armin and she follows his distraught gaze to see…

...nothing.

What the hell, indeed.

“Where’d they go?” Armin mutters.

Annie scans the area around them before she finally spots Sasha and Connie far off on the edge of the bank, and all she can wonder is, ‘when the hell did they swim over there?’

Was she and Armin fooling around for that long?

But it only seemed like a few seconds went by…

“Hey!” Connie hollers out, catching both of their attention with his sudden exclamation. “Meet you at the campsite!”

Annie feels her blush from earlier instantly fade away as terror dawns on her at the thought of being alone…  
with Armin…

again.

Last time they were alone earlier that day-

Annie shakes her head and forces those thoughts away.

‘ _Stop it,_ ’ she thinks. ‘ _Stop it, stop it._ ’

“Ugh,” Armin groans with a roll of his eyes. “They’re too much to handle.” He turns to Annie and gestures to the flat ground with a nod of his head. “Shall we?”

Annie nods, uttering some response that doesn’t really process in her mind as she begins to swim forward. She swims behind him, slowly taking in his appearance from behind until they’re finally on the ground and Annie instantly shivers when she rises out of the water. Her clothes stick to her skin, wet and soggy, and if she had to describe how she felt like at that moment with three simple words it would be as that of “a soggy muffin”.

When he’s out of the water and joining Annie onshore, Armin shakes his head to get the water out of his hair. Annie squeals, backing away from the stray droplets of water that go everywhere, and Armin chuckles as he murmurs an apology.

“You’re like a dog,” she comments, humor evident in her tone, although she’s not smiling

“Is that a compliment?” Armin asks.

Annie shrugs, “if you want it to be.”

They stare at each other before Armin dissolves into a fit of laughter. “A dog I am, then.”

Annie revels in the sound of him laughing.

 _God_ , she’s fallen so hard for him.

“Let’s head back,” he says as his titters trail off, pointing up the hill to where the rest of their group of friends are. Annie nods in response, following beside Armin as they make their way up the hill—albeit, a bit slowly, regarding the fact that their clothes are soaked so they feel heavier than usual and they’re also drunk, meaning that every once in a while, one of them will trip on their own feet.

But this is still fun.

Despite the discomfort of her clothes drying and becoming damp against her skin, despite the shivers that will travel throughout her body whenever a breeze will come by, despite the fact that her head has begun to spin from her alcohol intake, Annie Leonhardt is having fun.

She feels happy.

Which feels foreign, but not in a bad way.

So when she gets this next thought, she feels her bliss slowly dissipate.

‘ _Stop liking him, he loves someone else_.’

“So,” she begins awkwardly, hoping that if she speaks her thoughts will vanish, “how’s uhh… life?”

“Life?” Armin mocks with a snort.

“Well, not just life. I mean, in general. We haven’t been… talking, that much,” she murmurs. The minute she says this, she regrets it, because she knows that she’s the one who’s been doing all the avoiding.

“Ah, yeah. Well… I’m fine. You?”

“Me?” Annie questions.

“How’s life?” He teases, mocking her from earlier, and at this Annie mirthfully scoffs and gently elbows his side.

“Oh, shut up,” she murmurs playfully.

He giggles a bit. “I mean—I mean, do you like anyone or anything?”

The minute the question leaves his lips, they’re both stunned. Armin probably didn’t even _mean_ to say it like that, but he still did. And—Christ—why is Annie’s face becoming hot all of sudden?

“I-I don’t know,” she manages through her shock, “do I?” She teases—or more like, _tries_ to tease, although it comes out awkward, and her voice wavers.  
She clears her throat and feels tension force its way into the atmosphere.

‘ _Shit shit shit, it’s getting awkward. What do I do? What do I say? Quickly Leonhardt, say the first thing that comes to mind. The first thing. In three, two, one…_ ’

“Do you like someone?”

She instantly wants to crawl into a hole and die.

‘ _I DIDN’T MEAN THAT!_ ’ Her mind chides.

Armin stiffens a bit, flushing bright red, and Annie notices this. She instantly wants to reach out into the atmosphere and grab onto her words and swallow them back up as though she never spoke them in the first place. She wishes she could take them back—she wishes she never fucking said it in the first place.

But she did, and Armin heard her, and now he looks as red as a tomato.

“Oh, uhh…” He clears his throat and rubs at the nape of his neck with a shrug. “I like… someone.”

Annie feels her stomach churn uncomfortably and she frowns. Oh god, no. She knows exactly where this is going. Armin is going to tell her who he likes because they’re friends and friends tell each other that sort of shit, and Annie will give him advice and he’ll call her, one day, asking how he should ask his crush out and she’ll give him some tips—because they’re fucking _friends_ and friends give each other advice—and the next time she’ll see him, he’ll be introducing her to his new girlfriend.

Fucking christ, she can already see it now—he’ll come up to her one day, fingers intertwined with another girl’s as he smiles like an idiot—like an idiot in love. “ _Hey, Annie_ ,” he’d say, “ _this is my new girlfriend, her name is-_ ”

 _Fuck_ , no. She doesn’t want that to happen. She _doesn’t_ want that to fucking happen.

‘ _What if he likes me?_ ’ comes her next, unbidden and desperate thought. But it’s gone the minute it came because it’s fucking ridiculous—Armin liking Annie. Why would he like Annie when there are so many other girls who are much more prettier, and nicer (definitely nicer) than her? He has so many to choose from—there’s absolutely no way in hell that he’s fallen for her as she’s fallen for him.

Those thoughts bring a flurry of wild emotions with them.

“There’s no way…” Annie murmurs, the musing dribbling from her lips before she can even think twice.

“Hm? What was that?” Armin asks her.

“Oh! Nothing,” Annie says with a simple shake of her head.

“You know, you never really answered my initial question,” Armin says, a bit awkwardly.

Annie swallows thickly, averting her eyes which clearly gives away the fact that she’s lying as she says, “I don’t like anyone.” She decides to shove her shaky fingers into her wet hoodie pockets right after to hide their tremble from Armin.

“Oh,” replies Armin, although his words come out…

...sadly?

No, not sadly.

 _Disappointedly_.

‘ _I must be imagining it—there’s no way he’s disappointed by my response._ ’

As they continue to truck up the hill, the orangeish glow of the fire comes into view up ahead and Annie hears the faintest sound of Mikasa and Eren bickering over something only the two of them could be found bickering about. Right next to that is the music, and although it’s quiet, Annie can hear Sasha’s drunken voice sing along to the lyrics and butcher every word from her inebriated state.

Just hearing this—not even actually seeing the chaotic scene, but just _hearing_ their group of friends has Annie’s heart swelling. She can’t fucking wait to be reunited with their group—to be forced into one more round of shots—to finally play that card game Sasha had suggested they’d play—to finally eat some ribs or s’mores or just something because she’s fucking starving right now. She can’t wait… she can’t wait.

She frowns.

She can’t wait... to have fun, ultimately. That’s the goal, right? That’s why this camping trip was even planned in the first place—so that six young adults still in their college days could have fun with each other. She can’t wait to be excited and elated like she once was, but now her stomach churns uncomfortably. It’s as though her heart is sinking to her stomach, but her stomach has become this bottomless pit and her heart just keeps descending into nothingness.

She twists a hand into the front of her damp hoodie, the fabric releasing unwrung water between her fingers as they twist tighter and tighter above where her heart beats rapidly in her chest.

Before, she felt happy. But as if though her emotions could change at the flick of a switch, Annie feels nothing but upset.

It… hurts.

“Armin! Annie! There you are!” Sasha cheerfully pipes, gushing as she walks over to the two blondes who’ve just appeared. “Get changed, get changed! We’re taking more shots!”

“Oh no,” Armin shakes his head, holding up both of his hands in mock surrender, “I’m not letting you poison me with your alcohol.”

“I’ll take a shot,” comes Annie’s quiet and almost self-conscious voice. She needs a drink—needs the feeling of alcohol rushing down her throat and melting away her anxiety to fill her again.

Sasha cocks a brow in her direction, smirking devilishly at the blonde. “I thought you weren’t going to get drunk tonight?” She mocks.

“Shut up,” Annie murmurs, eyes flickering away from the brunette as a tiny blush crawls onto her face. The brunette cackles before she loops her arm through Annie’s and forces the blonde forward.

“I’m kidding! Come on, go get out of those wet clothes!” She turns over her shoulder and looks at Armin, pointing at the male with her forefinger. “You too, Arlert. We don’t want anyone here catching a cold from these wet clothes.”

“You’re the one who jumped in the water in the first place,” Armin points out with a frown.

“Yeah, but I took my clothes off first. You should’ve stripped too, it would’ve been fun,” she teases.

Armin flushes bright red and Sasha only giggles in response before scampering away with Annie towards one of the tents where their stuff is. Annie shrugs Sasha off her arm to search through her duffle for a pair of clean clothes, digging around before she looks up at Sasha with eyes wide with terror.

“Shit,” she murmurs before she continues her search.

“What?” Sasha asks, peering over to the girl who kneels as she continues to scavenger through her bag.

“I uhh…” Annie looks up with a defeated frown, “don’t have my shirt. I think I forgot it.” She frowns when she says this because, now, she knows exactly where her t-shirt is—at her dorm, on top of her bed, exactly where she left it, or more like, _forgot_ about it.

“That’s okay,” Sasha begins with a shrug, “just go topless.”

Annie’s face goes bright red and she turns to Sasha with a glare, making the latter rear with hands raised in mock surrender as she titters awkwardly at the icy-cold stare Annie gives her.

“Kidding! Kidding!” She quickly amends. “I’ll go ask someone if they have an extra shirt for you.” And then Sasha exits the tent and hollers out to everyone around them, “does anyone have an extra shirt?”

“I do.”

Sasha turns to the speaker and immediately smirks impishly. “Okay, good. Can I get it?”

“What do you even need an extra shirt for?” Eren asks from the grill, placing the cooked meat onto a tray.

“Annie needs it.”

When Armin hears this, he freezes from where he stands and turns to Sasha almost robotically. “A-Annie?” He echoes with a stutter, failing to hide his shock.

“Yes, Annie. Now can you get your shirt already?” Sasha hisses.

“Right, right,” Armin says, skittering away and into the other tent, only to exit with a sweatshirt in tow. He gives it to Sasha and she murmurs her thanks, passing him a grin with her eyes screaming ‘ _I know something about you two that you don’t,_ ’ before she walks away and disappears back into the tent Annie is in.

Armin is left a flustered mess.

“Here,” Sasha says as she steps inside, tossing the apparel at the blonde who kneels in the tent.

“Thanks,” Annie murmurs. She makes a shooing motion with her hand, “I’m gonna change now.”

Sasha nods before she disappears outside the tent, zipping it up for Annie to have her privacy.

The blonde immediately sheds her wet apparel when she’s alone, putting on some shorts that are way too fucking short (she knew she never should’ve asked Hitch for a spare pair of shorts) before she tugs the sweatshirt onto her body. It’s a faded yellow, falling to her thighs and covering Hitch’s shorts, and there’s text on the front in big font. Using her forefinger and thumb on both of her hands, Annie pinches the fabric and pulls it away from her torso to read the text from above.

It’s a college name, she notes, but it’s… her college.

Well, that’s… odd. There are only two people in her friend group who could possibly own a college sweater like this—since there are only two of them who attend this college—but Annie knows she’s never brought any of their school’s merchandise before, which leaves…

Armin.

“This is Armin’s shirt,” she quickly realizes with a bright red blush. She pulls the front of the shirt up, inhales deeply, and—yup, this is Armin’s clothing all right. It even has his scent of… of comfort (does comfort even have a smell?), not like Annie’s been sniffing him or anything, though. It’s just… hard to not notice how nice he smells, and this sweatshirt smells just like that niceness.

Annie fears she’ll soil its scent.

She flaps the sleeves once, like a baby bird, and she prepares to do it twice to continue to relish in its largeness before she catches herself and the act and immediately halts.

“What am I doing?” She murmurs, the question aimed at no one in particular as she rubs a hand down her face. She sandwiches her face between her hands, her cheeks squishing against her palms as she presses harder, as though the pressure will make her blush fade.

She needs to go back before they get worried.

Annie inhales once, then swallows her nerves before she steps out of the tent. It’s cold—much colder than she remembers, although that could be due to the fact that her legs are now exposed, so she makes a mental note to sit closer to the bonfire as she steps into the light of the flame

“There you are!” Sasha says, gesturing with her hand quickly as if to tell Annie to come over. “Come on! We’re taking the shots now!”

“Oh,” Annie murmurs as she joins her elated friend. She kind of… forgot that she agreed to take another shot. But, hey, it’s not like she’s taking four.

Sasha hands Annie a glass already full, then hands another to Eren and Connie—the only two others who want to join them. She raises her glass, “cheers!”

“Cheers!” They cheer back, clinking their glasses together before they practically inhale their shots.

“The meat’s ready,” Mikasa says nonchalantly as she walks over to them, the tray of ribs in her hand.

“ _Uwaaah_! It looks so good! Thank you!” Sasha says, immediately grabbing four ribs. Annie takes her own piece from the tray, managing to be less messy than her other friend when she takes her first bite.

“Where’s Armin?” Connie asks through a mouthful of meat and barbeque sauce, looking around.

Annie looks around with him. Where _is_ Armin?

“Ah, I’ll go get him. He’s probably still changing,” Eren offers, walking over to the other tent and stepping inside. Annie watches, curiously, as the tent zips open and she tilts her head to look past Eren’s figure and get a better look inside.

But then her eyes meet with Armin’s.

  
  
Armin is the first to look away.

Eren zips the tent back up behind him and Armin sighs, burying her face into his hands with a frown.

“Dude, the meat’s ready,” Eren says to his friend.

“I know,” Armin replies with a groan, his words stifled by his hands on his face, “I just can’t do it.”

“Do what?” Eren asks.

“Annie,” Armin says in response. His face turns warm when her name dribbles from his lips. Annie. What a sweet name. What an even sweeter person (well, she’s not really sweet but—you know what he means).

“Armin, I don’t get what you’re so worked up about. Just fucking go for her.”

Armin groans when he hears this advice for the umpteenth time from Eren. Eren doesn’t understand because Eren isn’t Armin. The former has blind confidence, not anxiety. He doesn’t worry about what’s to come, he anticipates it with a brave exterior.

Armin is different from that. He’s completely different. Hell, he can’t even text Annie without worrying that he might give away the fact that he loves Annie and—oh, here we go again—she’ll avoid him again. Except that this time it will be for real. Not some mediocre bullshit of ghosting someone’s text messages and calls, but legitimately cutting ties.

He fears that the minute he gives everything away, he ruins everything in the process.

And, yeah, maybe she will find out. Because all of Armin’s previous crushes have ended with the girl finding out about his poorly hidden feelings, whenever Armin starts to like someone, he immediately thinks, ‘ _Oh shit. Not again._ ’ It’s bound to happen, he finds. So that’s why when college came around, he told himself that the minute he began to express feelings of affection towards someone, he wouldn’t hide it. Because they’re bound to find out.

But now that Annie is back…

Fuck, no, he can’t have a repeat of six years ago. They’ve come so far— _he’s_ come so far into evolving as a person. He doesn’t want to regress, he doesn’t want to fucking regress.

“You don’t get it,” Armin murmurs, defeated.

Eren sighs. “Of course I don’t fucking get it. You always say that. You know what,” Eren snaps his fingers as though he’s made a revelation, “confess to her and I bet you she’ll reciprocate your feelings. If she doesn’t, I’ll owe you every single book from your favorite author.”

Armin’s face burns with a terrible mixture of agitation and sickness and confusion as he pops his mouth open to, once again, tell Eren that he doesn’t understand, but then he closes it and reconsiders.

“I’m serious. Think about it,” Eren says, giving Armin one last look over with his wet appearance before he shrugs, opening the tent to stalk away.

Armin frowns as the door zips shut.

Well, if it were that easy, he would’ve already fucking done it.

He frowns as he digs through his rucksack, fishing out his last clean shirt. He was planning on wearing his sweater tonight since these types of tents don’t tend to retain much heat and his sleeping back is pretty thin, but…

Annie needs it.

So… maybe it’s better like this.

He dons a fresh set of clothing and when he finally steps outside, everyone is gathered by the fire. There’s an empty spot beside Annie—well, no, there’s actually another available one right in between Sasha and Connie, but to avoid being caught in the crossfire of their constant eye-fucking (they think no one notices—they’re terribly wrong), Armin sits beside Annie.

With her body in his oversized sweater, she looks more petite than she really is, and Armin snorts at this.

She looks so small.

He wants to hold her.

“Here’s the last two. We saved them for you,” Annie says, extending the tray in Armin’s direction.

“Ah, thank you,” he replies with a forced smile that crooks his lips from how feigned it is. He takes the tray and sets it on his lap, taking a bite of the ribs when Sasha suddenly pops up and exclaims, loudly, “the s’mores!”

Sasha rushes over to her backpack and pulls out a bag of marshmallows, followed by a box of gram crackers and chocolate bars. She runs back towards the rest of her friends are, beckoning Mikasa to help her before the noirette gives in with a roll of her eyes and helps the struggling brunette stick the marshmallows into the sticks she brought before she passes them around.

Armin accepts it with a murmured thank you and he watches as Annie takes her own marshmallow-on-a-stick and slowly lowers it into the bonfire. Her beautiful eyes narrow a bit as she watches the marshmallow intensely to make sure it doesn’t end up on fire and Armin has to stifle a chuckle when he sees her nose scrunch up through her concentration.

‘ _Cute.'_

His hand lowers to the log they sit upon, fingers digging into the dark bark and chipping away at it as he forces his resolve to remain unwavering.

‘Just go for her.’

Shit—he might as well fucking tell her right now.

 _‘I love you, Annie. You’re beautiful, and I love you,’_ he’d say. And right after that, he’d kiss her, making up for where he undoubtedly fell short with his words with his lips pressing against hers, showing her just how much he’s fallen for her and how deep he’ll keep falling.

But—he won’t. Because right now, she looks like she’s having fun. Yes, Annie is stoic and she doesn’t smile, and catching her laughing is the equivalent of catching Mikasa laughing but—Armin can still tell. He’s good at two things in particular; (1) reading novels quicker than your average 21-year-old would, and (2) at studying people.

And he can tell, by the way Annie’s lip quirks upwards slightly when Connie starts to tell an unbelievably hilarious story, and with how her blue eyes—once so stoic and uncaring—glow with excitement in the firelight, that Annie is happy.

And—fuck—it’s a sight to take in.

Armin watches as Annie blinks, her vision averting from Connie who continues to talk and to the fire that roasts her marshmallow. Her eyes are two blue oceans, vibrant and glimmery, nestled beneath golden locks that will fall over her face only to be tucked away behind an ear by her dainty forefinger. Her skin is ruddy—possibly glowing in the light of the fire, and when her eyes trail over to meet Armin’s gaze, they quickly flicker away as she turns redder than the alcohol has left her, as though she’s the one been caught staring.

And yet a tiny smile manages to crawl onto Armin’s face.

' _Cute.'_

God—it’s like she’s _meant_ to be viewed in the firelight.

When her marshmallow catches fire, her eyes go wide and she panics for a second before she brings the burning end of her stick up to her face, puckers her lips together, and then blows. The fire eventually dies and when Annie is left with a burnt marshmallow, she turns to the fire as if to say, ‘that’s it?’

“You’re supposed to eat it,” Armin comments with a chuckle.

Annie jumps a bit as she turns to him, probably unaware of his ogling before she awkwardly titters. Then, she brings it closer to her mouth, parts her lips, and shoves the burnt marshmallow inside.

Her instinctual reaction is to part her lips and huff in and out through her mouth, using her hand to fan against her burning lips.

“ _‘uck, ‘t’s ‘ot ,_ ” she manages, panting past the heat on her tongue.

Armin’s smile widens.

‘ _Cute._ ’

She reaches her fingers inside her mouth in an attempt to pull out the marshmallow which currently burns her tongue, but what instead happens is that her fingers get coated in the sticky residue and the more she tries to rub it off, the more it spreads, until she’s a blubbering mess with a white, stringy mess clinging to her fingers. She looks utterly distraught with her brows furrowed, mouth still full of marshmallow as she attempts to pout, and Armin’s heart positively swells.

‘ _CUTE._ ’

Then, he does the only thing his body will let him do without exerting too much energy—he laughs. He laughs because he's an idiot in love and he knows it.

It starts simple, with his body lurching forward as his scarlet face catches in his hands. But then it accelerates, and a full-bodied laugh rolls through him uncontrollably, shaking his shoulders as tears begin to rim his eyes.

He’s loud—he doesn’t even notice this until his laughter segues into something lighter and the sudden silence that has befallen the fireside dawns on him. He looks up to see everyone peering at him—they’re either curious or terrified—and even Annie looks at him, startled by his abrupt outburst. She swallows down her glop of sugar before her mouth pops open as she gapes.

“Everything… okay?” Mikasa asks—he even managed to shock the stony-faced Mikasa Ackerman into raising her brows in concern.

“Yeah,” Armin replies, sitting up and scrubbing a hand down his face. “Everything’s fine.”

It takes only a few more seconds before the silence repopulates with Connie’s voice as he resumes his outrageous story. Armin notices that his marshmallow had dropped through his fit of laughter and it now coated with dirt, but he simply shrugs, posts his elbow on his knees, then leans his cheek into his fist and just stares, openly and unashamedly.

Fuck it—let him be caught staring.

He doesn’t care because right now, looking at Annie is making that pure feeling of bliss fester in his stomach. It’s thick and syrupy as it glides through his chest and warms him from the inside out.

So, yeah, right now, the last thing on his mind is being caught staring.

* * *

**Ten minutes earlier**

Sasha is… observant. But as she’s observant, she’s also shit-faced right now.

She usually handles her drinks well after having built up a tolerance from the countless times she’s gone out clubbing or partying, but tonight seems to be no exception. When you add two rounds of capture-the-flag (one of which’s rounds she won, she’d like to remind) and jumping into a reservoir only to hike up a hill back to the campsite, it should come as no surprise than her exhaustion has finally begun to pick at her.

Well, more specifically, her alcohol tolerance—it picks at her alcohol tolerance.

Not that she really gives a shit. It’s fun, being drunk, and especially around friends.

So when she calls out “cheers!”, before she takes in her most likely sixth shot that day, the last thing on her mind is being worried about getting hammered. She already knew that coming on this trip meant getting drunk.

Mikasa soon appears with a tray laden with meat and Sasha exclaims her gratitude before she helps herself to four ribs for herself before she sits down by the fire with a smile.

“Where’s Armin?” Connie asks. Sasha looks up with a mouthful of meat to see the shave-headed male scan the area in search of the blond in question, but what she sees right after is Annie looking around with the same, if not, more vigor than Connie.

“Ah, I’ll go get him. He’s probably still changing,” Eren offers before he stalks to the other side of the fire where the tent is.

Sasha watches as Eren disappears inside the tent, but when she notices Armin’s gaze linger behind Eren’s figure for longer than necessary, she follows his gaze to find Annie looking right back at him.

At this, Sasha smirks.

They’re _definitely_ fucking. Either that, or they _want_ to fuck.

Sasha has a feeling that it's the latter.

Eren is gone for two, or maybe three minutes before he reappears, and two minutes later, Armin joins them outside. Sasha sulks as Annie hands the last of the two ribs to their other male friend but doesn’t complain outwardly as she watches him says his thanks before he starts to eat.

She sure still does feel hungry…

“The s’mores!”

 _Of course_! How could she have forgotten than she had brought marshmallows and gram crackers and chocolate bars?

She rushes over to her duffle bag and pulls out the s’mores materials, begging Mikasa to help her hand out the marshmallows, and once that’s over with and Sasha is seated back on the log with a stick in hand, she stares at the scene unfolding before her very own eyes beyond the fire.

She takes a sip of her beer in her right hand as she lowers her marshmallow towards the fire, eyes narrowing as she watches the two blondes seated on the other side like a hawk. There sit Annie and Armin, with Annie slowly lowering her stick into the fire with Armin just… raptly staring at her.

And Sasha is fixed by this.

She _has_ to mention this to someone.

“Hey… Eren,” Sash quietly calls, refusing to tear her gaze away from Armin and Annie. When Eren doesn’t respond—too caught in his conversation with Connie about some sports game that occurred the other night, she tries again, “Eren,” she hisses sharply. She waves a blind hand in his direction, still to captivated by… _whatever_ the hell is going on to look away.

She leans forward, elbows digging into her own knees with her bottle dangling from her fingers as she focuses harder and harder on the scene before her.

“Eren!” She finally hisses, finally catching the brunet’s attention.

“What?!” Eren barks back.

“J-Just shut up and look at this!” Sasha whisper-yells, gesturing vaguely to the other side of the fire.

Eren follows her line of sight to their two friends—at Armin looking at Annie and Annie looking at her marshmallow—before his eyes trail curiously back to Sasha with a cocked brow. “What am I looking at exactly?” He asks.

“Just watch,” she insists, still unwilling to look away from the scene.

They both watch as Armin’s face rapidly turns scarlet, and how when Annie makes fleeting eye contact with him, she turns equally as red. Yeah—it’s a cute scene to take in, but Eren doesn’t see why Sasha is so captivated by it.

“I… still don’t get it,” Eren murmurs, shaking his head, although he doesn’t look away.

“Just watch,” Sasha repeats, bringing her drink up to her lips. “Something’s about to happen.”

So, he continues to watch—they continue to watch. They watch as Annie’s marshmallow catches on fire before she blows it out, and that’s when Eren turns to Sasha again with his impatience and confusion knitting his brows together.

“What is-”

“Watch Armin,” Sasha murmurs, cutting him off.

So, they do. They watch as he advises for Annie to eat the marshmallow, they watch as she obliges and eats the burnt treat, and they watch as Armin stares at Annie eat the burnt mess of sugar. They don’t know why, but the way Armin watches Annie chew makes them feel kind of… dirty.

“He always looks like that. Wha-”

“Shh!” Sasha hushes sharply. “Look,” she whispers, nodding at Armin. She can feel it—something big is going to happen.

And then Armin lurches forward, catching his red face in his hands, looking like he’s about to burst into tears or—oh god, what if he throws up because of all the shots they’ve taken?

But no—something more shocking ensues.

Armin laughs.

But not just laughs—he loses his shit completely.

“See!” Sasha says loudly, clapping a hand against Eren’s back with triumph.

Eren coughs. “How did the hell did you know that was going to happen?”

“I didn’t.” Sasha shrugs, bringing her stick back to her face and plucking her marshmallow off the end of it. She places it in her mouth, chewing through her smirk as she watches Armin’s titters trail off into something more lighthearted.

“Everything… okay?” comes a wary question from Mikasa.

“Yeah,” Armin replies, scrubbing a hand down his face. “Everything’s fine.”

Sasha listens as Connie’s voice starts to fill the silence little by little as he continues on with a story she isn’t listening to—instead transfixed on the… the whatever thing going on between Armin and Annie.

“What the hell was that?” Eren asks Sasha.

Sasha shrugs. “The beginning of something fucked, probably,” she murmurs, half-jokingly.

“Why is he looking at her that?” Eren asks, eyes narrowing as he watches Armin post an elbow on his knee and lean his cheek against his fist, openly staring at Annie with a smile. “How drunk is he, exactly?”

“You should’ve seen them at your house on Monday,” Sasha quips. “But you see it too, right? I’m not crazy!”

“I never said you were…” Eren takes a sip of his beer.

‘ _You don’t understand, my ass,_ ’ he thinks.

“You sure they aren’t already a thing?” Sasha asks Eren.

Eren recalls everything Armin had said to him, about him not understanding, and nods in response. “They aren’t. I mean, Annie seems oblivious to it.”

“She’s oblivious to that?!” Sasha calls incredulously. Sure, she knew Annie tends to be dense when it comes to herself (i.e. others hitting on her, and such things like that), but for someone to be that dense is almost rewarding.

“I know,” Eren simply replies, shaking his head as though he also can’t believe it.

Then, when he turns back to them, he sees Armin raise a hand in Annie’s direction. Both brunets stiffen as they watch him and Annie tenses too. But Armin continues on as though what he’s doing is a completely normal activity as he slides his fingers back against Annie’s cheek and daintily swipes his thumb against the side of her mouth.

“No way…” Sasha breathes.

“He isn’t…” Eren whispers back, aghast.

“He _is!”_ Sasha cheers quietly, eyes going wide.

Blue eyes go wide as they watch Armin detach his hand from the edge of a pair of lips and bring it up to his mouth, casually licking away at the marshmallow fluff on his digit with a smile, attention shifting back to the fire.

“It’s sweet,” he simply says, sounding surprisingly calm despite the fact that his face is hot-red.

Annie raises a trembling hand up to the edge of her now-parted lips, mouth working uselessly as her face flushes a deep red. It’s only a matter of time before she says something stupid and embarrasses herself—Sasha knows—so Sasha quickly jumps up to her feet and announces, “Hey, why don’t we play a card game?”

“Sure.” Armin nods, seemingly unfazed (either that or he doesn’t notice) by the flustered blonde to his right who still stares at him with utter shock.

“Let’s play in the tent,” Mikasa suggests as she stands up. “The fire is dying anyway and it’s fucking freezing.”

They all agree in unison, and three minutes later the six of them are huddled in one of the large tents with Armin shuffling his deck of cards.

“Alright! What are we playing?” Connie asks enthusiastically.

“Let’s just play BS,” Sasha says.

When there’s no objection, it’s silently agreed that the game they’re to play is BS. Annie watches Armin hands as he deals out the cards evenly between the six of them (as evenly as one can with a deck of 52 cards), and even as Annie is handed eight individual cards, she doesn’t pick them up from where they sit in front of her crossed-legs.

She just stares at Armin—at his hands, moving so fluidly and efficiently in shuffling 52 cards between them. One of those mitts had once been twisted into the front of her hoodie, and another had raked through his wet locks when they jumped into the reservoir, and Annie imagines curling her fingers against his once day to lace their fingers together. She imagines how soft his hands would be—how warm and how much bigger than hers they are.

When she thinks this, Annie looks down at her own hand and frowns at it as though it’s inadequate or something. These hands aren’t soft. They’re calloused from hours of relentlessly going at a punching bag, and scarred from knives that would slip out of her grasp when she’d cut vegetables when it was her turn to make dinner. And her nails—bitten short to the skin from the anxiety that would build in her stomach from time to time.

Her hands are… imperfect.

But Armin’s are nothing short of flawless.

“Annie,” Mikasa says, nudging the girl in the ribs.

Annie pulls herself away from her Armin’s-hands filled thoughts to look at her friend beside her.

“Your cards,” Mikasa murmurs, gesturing to the eight cards that lay face down in front of her knees.

“Oh, right,” Annie mutters, reaching forward to pick them up. Her face is warm now.

“I’ll start,” Sasha says, eyes flickering to Annie and giving the blonde a devilishly smile. Annie swallows nervously. Sasha can’t read thoughts, right?

“One ace,” Sasha says, placing down her ace card.

Connie, who sits beside Sasha, goes next, murmuring, “one twos,” as he places one of his cards down. The game continues on clockwise from there, and when it’s Armin’s turn to go, Annie catches herself ogling at his hands as he delicately places down two of his cards, murmuring something that Annie’s brain doesn’t process.

“Bullshit!” Connie exclaims just as Armin places his cards down.

Armin startles a bit, but then awkwardly chuckles as he pulls the deck of cards on the floor in his direction and shoves it into the pile in his hands. Annie watches his movements, captivated the entire time.

Connie cackles as Eren goes next, and right after is Mikasa, and the noirette has to elbow Annie back to reality and tell her that it’s her turn for her to finally jump back into action.

“Uh, t-two sevens,” Annie stammers as she slides two cards towards the deck.

Sasha snickers behind her hand and when Annie looks up at the brunette with a cocked brow, Sasha points an accusatory finger in her direction with a grin. “Bullshit! You’re supposed to put down a six!”

Upon realizing her mistake (albeit a bit slowly—the alcohol is really kicking in right now), Annie turns warm before she slides the pile of cards on the floor in her direction. Everyone starts to laugh at her mistake, but Annie feels nothing short of embarrassed.

Even Armin laughs a bit of her little mistake—that sweet, fucking angelic laugh of his, and Annie floods bright red at this. First the capture-the-flag incident, and then jumping into the reservoir and finding him nothing but gorgeous, and right after that was the marshmallow-thumb-licking incident—God, Annie can’t take much more of this.

‘ _Stop it, he loves someone else,’_ she keeps telling herself, trying vainly to send this message to the depths of her mind and to her heart so that these feelings she gets around him can vanish, but her efforts are futile. She can’t take this—she can’t keep falling for him because soon, inevitably, she will hit the ground. And the impact won’t be soft or cushioned. She’s going to hit solid, concrete flooring, and there will be nothing there to brace her impact. And from it, she will be forever scarred.

She shakes her head.

No. No. No. She doesn’t want to keep falling in love. Love hurts. Love sucks. Why is it portrayed as something so delicate and precious in movies and in books? In real life, it’s been nothing but a pain to Annie.

She shakes her head again, her face burning with a strange mixture of anger and confusion and hurt.

She doesn’t want this—she never asked for it. She _doesn’t_ want to fucking love Armin.

“Annie, you okay?” Mikasa asks quietly through a hushed voice.

Annie swallows thickly, nodding her head with her gaze lowered. She feels sick. She feels like she’s on fire. She feels shit-faced drunk.

“I uhh… I need some air,” she murmurs. Or at least, she thinks she murmurs it, but it comes out louder than expected and fully audible to everyone around her and they turn to watch as she staggers to her free from her cross-legged position only to stumble out of the tent.

“Is she okay?” Connie asks after Annie’s left.

“I don’t know. I think she just feels drunk,” Mikasa says. “Because somebody kept on insisting that we take shots.” Mikasa glares at Sasha.

Sasha chortles awkwardly, raising her hands in mock defeat as she looks away. “My bad, I didn’t know her tolerance was low.”

“Of course it’d be low if she doesn’t drink,” Mikasa hisses back.

“Who _doesn’t_ drink?” Sasha asks back, defensively, as though the thought of someone not drinking is truly foreign to her.

“Obviously Annie doesn’t,” Mikasa snaps back.

Sasha sighs “Ugh, fine, okay! I admit we drank too much!” She throws her arms up exasperatedly before she frowns.

“I’ll go check up on her,” Armin blubbers out.

“You sure?” Eren asks before he can stop himself, remembering how it was nearly five minutes ago when Armin had flustered Annie so bad to the point of speechlessness by the fire.

“Why wouldn’t I?” Armin asks.

“Uh, nothing, nevermind.” Eren shakes his head and watches as Armin leaves.

“They might be gone for a while…” Sasha murmurs.

“Hm? Why would you say that?” Connie asks, cocking a brow at her.

Sasha shakes her head. “No reason.” She looks past Connie’s figure to the corner of the tent where her backpack is. “I brought my table just in case. Let’s start a movie!”

“I’m not watching porn with you,” Mikasa comments with a scowl.

Sasha crawls over to her backpack and scowls back at Mikasa. “I don’t have porn you’d like anyways!” She defends, pulling her device out from the front pocket.

“What should we start with? Action? Comedy? Thriller?” Eren asks, turning to Sasha who presses a button on the side of her device screen with has the tablet screen lighting up in her face, illuminating her features.

”Let’s watch a rom-com,” Sasha says, giggling a bit at the suggestion.

“Ew, why?” Connie asks.

Sasha titters to herself as she presses onto a streaming-service app with a shrug. “I’m in the mood for it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know that said that i'd have the camping trip go on for two chapters, but things changed so i guess im extending it to three. the next chapter will undoubtedly be shorter than the previous two, which i think is inevitable, but i hope that it's still enjoyable.  
> currently, im already halfway done with it since i started to include it in this chapter at first before i went "fuck it, this is getting too long" so it should be out in a week or so. and, i just want to admit something here, it's a pretty heart-wrenching chapter so just be prepared.
> 
> Author's Note 08/25/20:  
> AHHH!  
> GUYS!  
> HOLY SHIT!  
> sO, this very wonderful amazing gorgeous beautiful (did I mention wonderful?) person, [@ookawashiki](https://www.instagram.com/ookawashiki/) drew fANART for this chapter. I was so elated I was literally shaking I don't think you understand like just [look?? at??? how??? fucking??? wONDERFUL??? it is!!??](https://www.instagram.com/p/CET9NclHPIo/?utm_source=ig_web_copy_link) I LOVE IT SM OMG THANK YOU SOOO MUCHHHHHHHCCHCHHH!!!🥺🥺🥺
> 
> If anyone, and I mean anYBODY wants to send me fanart they drew for this fanfic, honestly just send it to my on [my tumblr](https://mea-s.tumblr.com/) or [my twitter](https://twitter.com/im_meaSs). I will literally worship you like a god for it😭


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> quick warning here: my chapter updates may become less frequent from here on out.  
> The reason for that is because I actually have pretty bad mental issues and it’s finally taking a toll on my performances and I’ve started to write less.  
> I haven’t even been proof-reading that much since I don’t exactly have the will to open my laptop anymore or get out of bed so sorry if these next couple of chapters become shittier in quality or more depressing.
> 
> My writing usually reflects how I feel irl so since I’m going through an... episode, ig you could call it, this story is going to get pretty angsty from now.

Armin finds Annie outside, sitting on a log, the bonfire long put out as she sits hunched forward with her elbows on her knees and face buried in her hands. She’s saying something, murmuring something over and over again, and it’s not until Armin gets into earshot can he finally hear her.

“Stop it. Fucking stop. What’s wrong with you?”

She scrubs her hands up and down her face, her blonde locks falling forward and tangling together in front of her eyes as she continues to mutter to herself. Armin’s heart sinks a bit. She’s clearly going through something—is it right for him to be watching? Should he go back to the tent? Should he intervene? He feels like he’s invading her privacy.

But before he can move a muscle, Annie’s head rises from her hands and they lock eyes. The initial occurrence that happens next is silence, but then Annie looks back down with a blush crawling onto her cheeks as she brushes her hair out of her eyes.

Armin nearly forgets to exhale.

“Am I interrupting something?” He asks cautiously.

Annie swallows thickly. “Depends on what _something_ is,” she murmurs back.

Armin doesn’t know if he’s allowed to sit beside her—not sure if that’ll make her uncomfortable or not—so he just stands where he is. He decides to shove his hands into his pant pockets and he swears he sees her frown when his hands disappear, but he decides not to question it.

A few seconds of silence pass, filled with nothing but their little breaths before Annie sighs. “Armin,” she begins, voice tiny, “what’s love?”

Armin feels color rise to his face at the question. Did he hear her correctly? What’s _love_?

Upon noticing his prolonged silence, Annie pulls her hair back with a frown. “Nevermind. It was a stupid question.”

“N-No,” Armin blurts quickly, hating the sight of her frowning so genuinely. Now, when her nose scrunches up, he doesn’t find it cute—he only finds it heart-clenching. “No, i-it’s an okay question. Uh… I guess I was just quiet because I don’t exactly know what the answer is.”

“But, the person you like,” Annie points out, making Armin stiffen since she’s speaking about herself without knowing, “you love them, right?”

Armin parts his lips to speak, but nothing falls out. ‘ _Yes. I love them because they are you. I love you, Annie. I love you so much,’_ he wants to say. But before he can finally get a word out, Annie sighs again.

“Never mind. Forget I said anything. I’m just…” She shakes her head and inhales slowly. “I feel drunk.”

“Do you want water?”

She nods slowly, and so Armin walks over to the cooler and takes out a cold water bottle. He prepares to throw it in her direction, but then reconsiders quickly and just scrambles back over to her and hands it to her.

“Thank you,” she murmurs, reaching out and grabbing it from his hands, pointedly making sure that their fingers don’t make any contact. She drinks the water—practically inhales it until it starts to trickle down her chin and she has to pull the bottle away from her lips and wipe her chin on her sleeve to get rid of the water. Then, she’s back to swigging her water until the bottle is empty and she pulls it away from her lips with an exasperated breath.

“Wow,” Armin whistles out, raising a brow. “You were that thirsty? You should’ve said so.”

Annie shrugs, crushing the bottle in her hands with a frown. “I didn’t even know I was that thirsty.” Her words have begun to slur and when her vision blurs, she has to blink to get it clear again.

“Want more water?” Armin asks.

Annie thinks before she shakes her head. “N-No, I’m fine. I’m just… tired.”

“Oh, well, if you’re tired you can go to sleep. I can tell the rest that you don’t feel well,” Armin offers.

Annie thinks for a moment, brows furrowing in thought before she nods. “Y-Yeah. Yeah, I just want to go to sleep.” She rises from the log, staggering when she gets to her feet and pitching to the side, her arms flying out to her side to steady herself. Suddenly a warm body slides up next to her, steadying her with an arm around her waist.

“Careful, careful,” Armin’s smooth voice mutters into her ear, and Annie blushes at their sudden close proximity. Her heart begins to race, but her stomach sinks with distress. She feels nothing but conflicted. “I think we all drank a little much,” he says with a tiny chortle, hoping that his chuckle will lighten up the mood.

“Sorry, I just… I didn’t sleep well, so I-”

“Shh,” Armin soothes, voice velvety and smooth next to her ear. “It’s fine, you’re fine. I’ll set up your sleeping bag for you, so don’t worry.”

Annie parts her lips, wanting to say, ‘ _you don’t have to do that_ ,’ but the words don’t form in her mouth and her lips move wordlessly as Armin’s arm slips out from around her and she shivers at the loss of contact. But then he removes his other hand from his pocket and wraps his long, flawless fingers around her wrist, pulling her forward towards the other, empty tent.

When they’re inside the tent, Armin leaves the opening unzipped so that the moonlight can pour inside as he unfurls Annie’s navy blue sleeping bag, laying it out onto the ground before he places Annie’s pillow down on it. Annie feels awkward as she watches him set up her sleeping area, so she nervously fidgets with her hands as she watches his move meticulously when they unroll her sleeping bag and fluff her sleeping pillow.

But then he draws his hands back to his sides and when their movements cease, Annie frowns.

It was nice while it lasted.

“There you go,” he says as he rises to his feet, although he can’t rise to his full length in the tiny tent.

Annie nods, murmuring her thanks as she slips into the sleeping bag and watches Armin.

“Sleep well,” he says before he makes for the exit.

And this is when Annie’s mind starts to scream at her. She’s inebriated—she can’t think straight—but she still wants him here. She reaches out blindly, her fingers curling around a wrist as her eyelids droop slowly, eyesight going half-lidded as she parts her lips and musters the only thing that comes to mind.

“Stay.”

Armin halts, turning to face Annie with a cocked brow, his cheeks visibly red, although Annie could be imagining it.

“What?” He exhales stiffly, looking down at the tiny hand clamped down on his wrist before he looks back to Annie.

“Stay,” she repeats vaguely.

Armin swallows and licks his lips, eyes darting around the small expanse of the tent before he looks back at Annie. “Stay where exactly?”

Annie sighs, but opposed to answering, she lets go of Armin’s hand, shuffling over in her sleeping bag that’s too large for her own body as though she’s making room for him. Her heart hammers in her chest, and there’s the logical part of her mind that’s telling her to stop, but after hours of resiting the alcohol, it’s finally taken over and Annie can’t control the words that spill from her lips or the movements her limbs make.

“Please, just… stay,” she whispers, eyes finally fluttering shut.

Armin doesn’t react whilst her eyes are closed, but when they slowly open and her blue eyes begin to watch him with anticipation, he finally shifts. As though he’s in a trance, Armin shuffles to the other side of the sleeping bag where Annie makes room for him and settles in beside her, heart climbing up his throat all the whilst.

“Okay,” he exhales, easing himself more into the sleeping bag gently.

Annie hums, facing away from him as Armin lays with his back to her. “Thank you,” she whispers.

Armin parts his lips to respond, but when nothing but a choked exhale leaves his lips, he decides it’d be best not to say anything lest he embarrass himself. His heart begins to thunder in his chest and he’s sure Annie can feel it, even if their backs are turned to each other’s, and he swallows vainly in an attempt to dissolve the sudden lump in his throat.

Shit, he shouldn't have done this. He should’ve just left. Annie probably won’t even remember if he left or not—she’s fucking hammered right now.

But—fuck—he _stayed_ , and now he’s panicking as he feels Annie’s back press impossibly closer to his.

“Uhh… A-Annie?” He exhales. He starts to shiver for two reasons; (1) Because, fuck, it’s cold and Annie’s sleeping bag is thin and these tents don’t tend to retain much heat and, oh yeah, Annie is wearing _his_ sweater so he’s stuck with a thin t-shirt, and (2) Annie keeps pressing closer to his back and the contact he receives from her sends a fire blazing throughout his body.

But when no response comes from the blonde behind him, he holds his breath and listens, quietly, to the sound of her quiet, leveled breaths. He lifts his head and twists it behind him to view her face and the sight of her closed eyes with eyelashes fanned out against her cheek mixed with the sound of her very, _very_ faint snoring tells Armin that she is asleep.

He smiles a bit at this sight.

She’s beautiful.

Her tiny body curls up into itself as she shivers, blonde brows furrowing as she lets out a little groan when she attempts to bury herself deeper into the sleeping bag. She continues to shiver and Armin bites his bottom lip, looking around the tiny tent in search of something else he could give her to cease her shivering. But once his efforts are proven futile, he sighs and turns back to the shivering girl next to him.

He hates how he feels her tremble right next to him. He wants to do something—give her something that will help warm her up. But there is no other blanket, nor is there another article of clothing he can offer her, but the longer he feels her tremble the more he wants to do something to help her warm up.

“Hey, Annie,” he whispers, gently shaking her. “Wake up, let me get you a blanket.”

But she doesn’t respond, save for her little, sleepy groan. She turns onto her side and Armin sighs when he feels her shivering continue.

“Annie,” he repeats.

Again, she doesn’t budge.

She instead turns over onto her left side, making Armin stiffen as she nuzzles her nose against his chest. His entire body heats up at the contact and he feels his limbs go numb as Annie slips an arm underneath his arm to pull him closer to her.

And—shit—she smells _good_.

“A-Annie?” He squeaks out, to no response again.

She shifts her head, pressing her body impossibly closer to his. “No…” comes her tired, groggy voice, “I’m tired...” Annie is still asleep—Armin can tell.

He exhales a little breath before he looks down at the sleeping girl who rests beneath him. He knows this is bad—he’s found himself in a predicament and he knows he needs to slip away from Annie to let her sleep peacefully lest she wake up and find them cuddled together, but—is it bad that he likes this? 

Oh yeah, and also, her shivering stopped.

He sighs, raising a hesitant hand to tuck a strand of her blonde hair out of her face to view her peaceful expression. His heart aches beautifully at the sight of her—perfectly, pink lips parted and skin hued pink from the alcohol that still swims through her body. He wants to… he wants to…

... _kiss_ her.

He turns his head away from her with a frown. Shit, things are getting out of fucking control. He needs to get out of here before-

A tiny, choked whimper cuts his train of thought short and Armin starts, his head snapping down to view Annie below him. The whimper came from her, and now that Armin is looking at her, he can see tears flow down her flushed cheeks. His heart aches again and he immediately reaches out and snakes his arm around her to pull her closer. She instinctively nuzzles closer to him as her crying continues.

“Shit…” he mutters with a frown. But then he sighs and wraps his other arm around her, pulling her flush against his body, and he has to hold back his groan when Annie’s thigh brushes against his groin.

Just for a few minutes…

He’ll leave when she stops crying.

Just for a few minutes…

This is just for her to stop crying.

Just for a few minutes…

Just…

...a few more…

...minutes.

When Armin feels exhaustion creep up on him, he tries to battle it, forcing his eyelids open every time they’d droop and shaking his head every time his tiredness would try to take over. But then, it begins to nip at the edges of his consciousness until there’s nothing left for him to do but succumb to the exhaustion that overcomes him with an acquiescing exhalation of air.

And Armin's eyelids flutter shit.

* * *

Annie is the first to wake, and she awakes before her eyes crack open. There’s the heavy weight of pleasant exhaustion resting idly on her chest, and she nestles deeper into her pillow with a soft groan. The morning sun has yet to pour in and illuminate her surroundings, telling her that it must be before dawn, so she doesn’t bother peeling her eyelids open when she shifts to get more comfortable in the warmth around her.

Her head throbs mildly, reminding her of how much alcohol she ingested the previous day, although her memory swims in a hazy blur. She faintly remembers jumping into the reservoir, but her memory after that remains indecipherable. She thinks she may have cried, judging by the puffiness there is to her eyes and the dried wetness there is to her cheeks, but it must’ve been a dream because now, she’s all warm and snug.

But then she decides it doesn’t matter—she must’ve had fun, and that’s all that matters. So she relaxes with a sigh, letting herself gently cross back on over to the threshold of unconsciousness.

But then she jolts wide awake.

Yes, she would’ve fallen back asleep, had it not been for the sudden shift of movement she felt that had roused her again. Her vision is still hazy with exhaustion, so her eyes blink rapidly against the soft white glow of… wait, white?

‘ _But none of the tents are white.’_

_‘Wait…’_

All of her senses come screeching back to Annie and she audibly gasps, frantically trying to look around to see where the hell she is, only to be pulled closer to whatever holds her. She’s being held—this, she can tell by the arms wrapped tightly around her—but by whom, she had no idea. Again, she tries to wriggle her way out of whoever’s embrace she managed to get ensnared in, but her efforts are proven futile when a tired sigh comes from above her head and she’s only pulled closer.

She frowns.

‘ _What the fuck?’_

She shifts her head and rests it on the firm chest she’s pressed up against, lifting her chin to peer up to see..

‘ _Oh you fucker_ ,’ she thinks with a frown, because of _course_ it has to be Armin who’s holding her. Of _course_ it has to be Armin who pulls her closer to him every time she tries to maneuver her way away from him. Of _course_ it’s the man who she’s been so engrossed by for the past week.

Of _fucking course_.

“Hey, Armin,” she whispers, her voice laden with exhaustion. “Armin, wake up.” She tries to sound normal, although her pulse has sped up and the fact that she can nearly hear her heartbeat in her own ears isn’t helping alleviate the waver in her voice.

But Armin doesn’t reply.

Annie frowns. Her heart lurches. She wants to hold him tighter.

And, despite her better judgement, she _does_.

Her arms tighten around him, and their tangle of lower limbs underneath the sleeping bag only intertwine even more when she does this. Armin sighs contently, his head lolling to his side before he leans forward, nearly crushing Annie underneath him.

In any other circumstance, Annie may have kicked and screamed and tried to free herself, but here she finds herself inhaling deeply to have Armin’s sweet and comforting scent fill her lungs and make her head spin. But even as she begins to revel in the feeling of his body heat simultaneously warming and relaxing her from the inside out, her mind reels with anxiety, because—shit, what if Armin _wakes up?_

He’ll be definitely appalled—Annie _knows_ he’ll be appalled because why the fuck _wouldn’t_ he be, waking up cuddled with Annie?—and the last thing she wants to bear witness to is the sight of Armin genuinely agitated at her.

But, fuck, let her _live_.

“Armin,” her voice drops to a whisper, “are you awake?”

No response.

She reaches a hand up, scrambling up to be at eye-level with him whilst avoiding awaking the blond in the process, before she tucks a hand underneath his chin and tilts it down. Butterflies burst to life in her stomach at the sight of a very-unconscious Armin Arlert and she lets her thumb trace over his smooth cheek where very, _very_ faint sun-freckles dot his skin, and she leans closer to him.

Knowing that Armin could awake any second and push her away in disgust makes Annie’s stomach swim with a weird mix of misery and absolute fear.

But he’s asleep right now, so she’ll just leave before he wakes up. Just… let her have this.

She shifts to get more comfortable and ends up on her back, although now Armin’s arm is lazily draped dangerously close under Annie’s breasts. Her eyes flicker down to where the bare skin of his forearm rests at the base of her ribs, his wrist tucked in the slight dip of her waist with his hand hanging limply on the other side. They aren’t even fully in the sleeping bag anymore—it’s at their waists now.

When Annie stiffens as his leg hooks up high on her waist to pull her impossibly closer, the pads of Armin’s fingers brush lightly against sensitive skin on her lower back where the sweater she wears has ridden up in her sleep. His touch is delicate, edging on nearly being nonexistent from how minimal the contact is, but Annie still has to push down the tiny moan that crawls up her throat when he touches her.

Okay, _this_ , she needs to stop now.

“A-Arm— _ah_.” His name breaks into a tiny exhale when Armin’s hand dips upward, resting his hands across Annie’s chest and resting his hand on the dip of her clavicle. But he still doesn’t wake up. No, this time, he only sighs as he pushes his head into the crook of Annie’s neck.

And _this_ is when Annie notices the tears in her eyes.

She didn’t notice them before, but now that her vision is blurred by them and when she tries to blink them away, they only spill down her cheeks, she has no choice _but_ to acknowledge them.

Her heart begins to ache and she turns her head to face Armin again, her tears coming quickly without restriction, and she raises her hand to hold his face again. Armin leans into her touch and Annie uses her thumb to trace over his cheek again, holding back a whimper that makes its way up her throat as her tears spill onto the pillow.

Underneath his lashes where delicate marks dot his cheeks is where Annie traces her thumb upon before her digit lowers further to his lips, and she has to refrain from just pulling his head closer to hers to just smother him with kisses. Armin flinches a bit before he shies away from her touch, and Annie holds her breath before drawing her hand back with a frown.

‘ _He loves someone else_.’

This thought sends a searing pain through Annie’s heart. Someone else… he loves someone else…

One day, when he attains a girlfriend—when he finally gets someone who is both deserving and enough for him—it will be _someone else_ who’ll spend time with Armin. Someone else will hold his hand. Someone else will hug him and call him everyday. Someone else will kiss him. Someone else will wake up next to him after a night of various activities, and when Armin awakes next to that someone else, he will smile and blush and hold her and kiss her and tell _her_ , over and over again, ‘ _I love you_.’

‘ _But that someone else isn’t me_.’

He loves someone else.

He loves someone else.

He loves someone else.

Annie has to hold back another whimper as her tears continue to pour. She snakes her arms around Armin and pulls him closer, tucking her chin into his shoulder as she continues to cry, dampening the sounds of her weeping but shoving her face into his shoulder.

She needs to stop this.

She needs to stop loving him before she gets hurt.

She doesn’t want to get hurt.

She doesn’t want…

When her crying subsides and Annie is left trembling against his shoulder, she pulls away from Armin with a sniffle, wiping her tears away with her hands. She smiles weakly at the sight of him, all tired and peaceful and beautiful, before she slips out of their mess of tangled limbs and extracts herself from him. 

She shivers from the loss of contact and sits with her knees pulled up to her chest, biting down on her bottom lip with tears swimming in her eyes, unwilling to fall. 

She needs to stop loving him.

She leans forward, pushing his blond hair out of his face and leaning forward to press her lips against his forehead.

When she detaches her lips, she feels her heart hammer with a terrible, merciless ache in her chest, deafeningly loud in her ears and blocking out the sound of the world around her. She leans her forehead against his, inhaling once more and not ready to pull back as she watches his lips part slightly.

“I love you,” she whispers against the skin of his cheek, to no response.

She leans back and finally pulls away from Armin, wiping away at the remainder of tears that had remained in her eyes. She looks at him once more, heart lurching at the sight of him so peaceful before she forcefully turns her gaze away from him with a frown.

She’s going to miss loving him…

...but…

...it’s for the best.

“Goodbye, Armin,” she whispers before she crawls out of the tent and into the early-morning air where the sun has just started to rise.

She gets no response from the boy she leaves, asleep, in the tent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry about... this. like I said, things are gonna get pretty depressing so just brace yourself.
> 
> Oh but don’t worry! I don’t intend on abandoning this fanfic cuz it’s actually helping me cope, and there will be a happy ending... eventually.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which I provide you guys with my lazy writing UwU 
> 
> enjoy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I updated...... hurray.
> 
> Would you believe me if I said I cried whilst writing this? *cries*
> 
> oh yeah, also, I didn’t proof read again. I just wanted to fulfill your guys’ need for a chapter and I got too hasty so sorry if there are typos and grammar errors. *continues to cry*

Something... happened.

Armin doesn’t know  _ what _ happened in particular, but he’s sure that it must’ve been something that occurred during their camping trip three days ago, because it was only after then did Annie start to act… strange.

He can’t exactly put his finger on it or find a way to label her behavior, but she’s definitely been different. More distant could be a good way to dub it, but that’s not all of it. Sure, their less frequent texting and hang-outs that have started to edge on non-existence  _ could _ be Annie acting distant, but it’s also the way she’s been acting. She talks less, doesn’t meet his eyes as much, and does  _ not _ like to be next to him.

Maybe he did something when he was drunk? He can’t exactly remember anything clearly from their camping trip after Sasha had induced them to take multiple shots, but it’s hard to imagine that he’d do anything that would make Annie uncomfortable to the point of avoidance. So maybe it’s something else—maybe it’s a bunch of other stuff that’s been piling up.

But…

He still doesn’t know.

But he hopes that she’ll loosen up around him  _ soon _ .

When Armin walks out of his last class, he notes that he has twenty minutes before his next lecture, so he pulls out his phone and decides to text Annie.

[ _ where are you?  _ ]

Annie’s reply comes a couple of minutes later.

**[** **_My public speaking class just ended_ ** **]**

**[** **_Why?_ ** **]**

[ _ great you’re already on campus  _ ]

[  _ I have twenty minutes until my next class. Wanna get lunch?  _ ]

Armin knows that Annie will probably say no because, if her behavior recently is any indication, she doesn’t feel comfortable around Armin right now. But it never hurt to ask.

As three dots begin to pulse on and off on the side of the screen where Annie’s messages come through, Armin waits patiently for a response before the dots pause before disappearing altogether. He sighs, but then slips his phone back into his pocket with a shrug.

“Guess that’s a no then,” he murmurs.

He makes his way to his car in the school parking lot and just as he sits down in the driver’s seat, his phone chimes with a notification. He grumbles when he has to lift his hips off the seat to take his phone out, but then he holds his breath when he sees a new message from Annie.

**[** **_sure_ ** **]**

He can’t hold back his smile when he replies back with a text telling her where his car is parked, and it only takes two minutes for her to find him and climb into the passenger’s seat.

“Hey,” she mutters as she slips the seatbelt on.

“Hi,” Armin replies, unable to contain his small smile. He watches as Annie takes off her grey backpack and drops it to her feet in the open space in front of the passenger seat.

“Where are we going?” She asks, although her gaze lingers on her feet.

Armin can’t help but feel his smile waver slightly at the fact that Annie  _ still _ refuses to look at him, but he forces his disappointment away with a simple clearing of his throat. “That coffee shop close to here,” he replies as he shoves his key into the ignition and feels the engine hum as it comes to a slow start underneath his feet.

Annie hums in response, nodding slowly before she posts her elbow on the armrest on the door and leans her cheek against her fist to look outside. The same disappointment from before starts to work its way back into Armin, but this time he can’t keep himself from frowning.

Hopefully—God, he fucking hopes—Annie will start to go back to normal soon, because he can’t fucking take this distance anymore.  
  


* * *

Turns out, falling out of love is  _ hard _ . Especially when the man you’re in love with is so nice and caring and considerate and loveable because then, sometimes, you can  _ never _ escape that strong affection you feel towards them.

Annie knows this all-too-well.

It’s been three days since Annie told herself to fall out of love, and so far, she’s been betwixt and between, neither failing or succeeding. It’ll happen like this; so far, it will have been going on well—she's managed to avoid falling into a love-induced trance when looking into his blue eyes, her relentless feelings of affection have subdued, and she’ll feel  _ good _ . But then she’ll fuck it up somehow—by ogling too long at his lips or his hands or by letting her mind wander too far when thinking of him—and she’ll be back to being hopelessly in love with no signs of escape.

But she keeps thinking that maybe, if this goes on long enough, she  _ won’t _ fuck it up one time and she’ll succeed. She’ll fall out of love. She’ll be  _ free _ .

Yet that time has yet to come, and the more she waits, the more Annie goes insane.

“They didn’t have any plain danishes,” Armin says, and upon hearing his voice, Annie looks up to see him approaching the table which she sits at in the corner of the shop, “so I got you a raspberry one.”

Annie quickly looks away when her eyes meet his, hoping that she’s hiding her blush as she murmurs her thanks and snatches the tiny paper bag away from him. Armin doesn’t comment on her behavior—just like he hasn’t been commenting on her outlandish behavior for the past three days—as he simply sits down across from her and sets his drink down on the table.

“How are your classes right now?” He asks before he pokes his straw into his cup, shoving it past the whip cream and to the bottom of his drink.

“Uhh, good,” she replies with a simple nod.

Armin hums in response, taking a sip through his straw before he smacks his lips together. “That’s nice.” He nods. “My intro to business class is pretty  _ blah _ ,” he adds with a roll of his eyes. 

“I heard that the professor is nice,” Annie comments.

“She is. She’s pretty too,” he agrees.

Annie involuntarily stiffens and when she looks up to look at Armin, she swallows thickly and frowns when he sees him look away with a sheepish smile on his lips.

“Pretty how?” She prods.

“Uhh,” he scratches the nape of his neck with a shrug, “her hair is… nice.”

Annie snorts audibly. “Her hair? That’s it?”

Armin smiles when he hears this. Sounds like Annie’s initial discomfort around him is slowly melting away.

“Well, not just her hair,” Armin replies. “Her hair is nice and brown and all, but she’s also  _ nice _ , and I  _ like _ nice girls.” He meets Annie’s gaze and when he sees the apprehension that’s been lingering in Annie’s eyes since he saw her fade away, he smiles wider.

But then Annie frowns and looks away, and Annie curses at himself mentally, thinking that he fucked something up.

“So you’re into brunettes and nice girls, then.” Annie tries not to sound salty—she really does—but the way the words roll off her tongue seem to retain a bit of defensiveness to them and she just can’t help that.

Upon hearing this, Armin feels slight color drain from his face. ‘ _ No, I’m not into brunettes _ or  _ nice girls. I’m into blonde girls with blue eyes who speak their mind and don’t sugarcoat anything and manage to be sassy and ironic with the name Annie Leonhardt _ ,’ he wants to say.

But those words don’t leave him, and instead what awkwardly comes out is, “I’m into all types of people.”

“So, you’re also into Connie?”

Armin’s eyes widen, but a quick look at the tiny smirk playing on Annie’s lips tells him that she’s simply teasing him. And as if to further prove that she’s only fucking with him (although Armin wishes she were  _ fucking _ him, but that’s a topic for another day), Annie starts to snicker.

“How’d you know?” Armin quips.

“I could see it in the way you two look at each other. You guys are lovestruck,” Annie replies with another snicker.

Armin joins in on her laughter with a chuckle, and soon the two are giggling madly in the corner of the coffee shop until Armin’s titters trail off into something more airy. When he looks up, he notices that Annie has stopped laughing, and now she just stares at him with wide blue eyes and a tiny blush on her face.

“What?” Armin asks, turning around to look behind him, only to confirm that Annie is looking at  _ him _ with that dumbfounded gaze.

“N-Nothing,” she stutters out as she turns away, although her blush only deepens in color.

Armin can’t stop himself from smiling at her.

‘ _ Cute _ .’

“Okay, weirdo,” he replies as he takes a sip of his drink. He watches as Annie takes her first bite of her danish, his eyes tracing the movement of her delicate lips that he’s daydreamed about kissing about more times than he’d like to admit. He watches as her eyes slide shut when she savors the flavor and suddenly, there’s a blush on his own cheeks as he watches her take another bite.

This continues on—Annie takes a bite, swallows it down, and Armin will just watch her with sudden captivation.

But then his phone chimes and Armin jumps at the noise, sighing as he pulls out his phone to view the notification to see a reminder on his screen. He grumbles under his breath and when he sees Annie’s curious eyes peer over to him, he says, “I should head back to campus for my next class.”

Annie nods, shoving the last bit of her pastry into her mouth. Armin swallows thickly, forgetting about his own drink as he watches her bite on more than she can chew and struggle around the bit of buttery delight in her mouth. Annie’s eyes slide shut again as she hums when she finally manages to swallow it down, but then she wipes away at the cream cheese that had smeared on her cheek and mouth with her thumb and pushes the cream covered digit past her lips, and Armin makes a noise akin to a choked gasp.

Annie’s eyes pop open in shock and when they make awkward eye contact, Annie realizes just what she’s doing and she feels her face burn red. When she pulls her thumb out of her mouth, it exits with a wet noise that makes her blush with embarrassment and Armin straightens as tenses. He clears his throat, tearing his eyes away from Annie as he rises from his seat.

“W-We should uhh… get going,” he murmurs, shoving his hand into his hoodie pocket to hide the sudden stiffness that starts to protrude from his groin as he uses his other hand to grab his drink.

Annie nods, not seeming to notice the bulge in Armin’s pants as she rises to her own feet and follows him to the door of the coffee shop, clutching her empty paper bag in her hand as they leave. When she sees a trash can in the corner of the parking lot, she tugs on Armin’s hoodie which has him halting to look back at her.

“I’ll throw my trash away there and meet you at the car,” she says, gesturing to the bin at the far end of the parking lot, on the other side of where Armin’s car is parked. He nods and instantly starts to walk to his own vehicle and Annie stalks towards the trash bin, clutching the paper bag in her hand tighter as she moves.

Her mind starts to race with a flurry of emotions that Annie can’t seem to calm down and she stops in her tracks to inhale a shaky breath, shaking her head to try to calm herself down. Her heart won’t stop racing, but it faces with nothing like excitement, but with something closer to pain and aching.

She exhales as she forces herself forward, twisting her hand into the front of her shirt where her heart pounds in her chest.

Fuck…

It hurts again…

“Why?” She muses.

_ 'Just because you know when something's going to happen doesn't mean that it still doesn't come as a shock to you.’ _

She grits her teeth and throws the paper bag into the bin, wiping away at the tears that shine in her eyes. She inhales once, twice, then shakes her head again and turns around.

She’ll be fine.

This is fine.

After a while, she’ll get used to the ache and it’ll go away.

After a while… she’ll be fine.

When she makes her way to Armin’s car, she sees him across the parking lot, and the sight of him makes her want to puke and cry simultaneously. She hates this.

But then she shakes her head.

“This is fine…” she murmurs to no one in particular—just needing to get the words out and hoping that by doing so, the words will ring true. “This is fine,” she repeats again, shaking her head again.

“This is…”

She can’t finish the sentence because her voice jumps an octave when it cracks, and it doesn’t take long for her to realize that there are now tears in her eyes. She quickly wipes them away, squishing her hands against her cheeks as if to ground herself.

This is fine.

She’ll be fine.

Just a little bit longer…

…and she’ll be fine.

* * *

When Annie is back in her dorm, she doesn’t bother greeting her roommates when she sees them in the living room. She drags her feet as she steps inside and removes her shoes, unable to pick herself up and pull herself away from the horrid emotions plaguing her mind.

“There’s pizza in the kitchen,” Hitch says as she sits down beside Mina and flips on the tv.

Annie shakes her head. “I’m fine.” She definitely doesn’t  _ sound _ fine.

She doesn’t notice the fact that Hitch and Mina’s eyes assess her warily, following her as she forcefully drags herself into her room, already too exhausted by the ache that’s been torturing her heart all day. She closes her door behind her and collapses face-first onto the bed before she sighs against the comforter.

This is fine.

She turns onto her side and scrambles to get her jeans off before she’s laying atop the comforter clad in nothing but socks and her grey jacket. She nervously bites her bottom lips, rolling her silver ring on her thumb again with a twist of her stomach.

“Falling out of love is hard,” she murmurs to no one in particular.

And she’s right.

Falling out of love  _ is _ hard.

But she can do it. It’s possible.

Eventually.

She sighs and turns onto her side before she lets her eyes slide shut.

...

She’ll take care of her maelstrom of emotions when she wakes up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let’s face it: this chapter is short and a filler.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some mildly smexy stuff this chapter. it's nothing _too_ bad though.

Annie isn’t exactly… _sure_ how they got here.

Because now Armin’s body is hovering over hers in bed, and although her memory is hazy as to how they got here, she can’t help feeling as though this is just _right_. Armin panting, his breaths hot and heavy as they fan against Annie’s cheek, with Annie just staring up into his blue eyes just feels right.

“ _I-I…_ ” she begins, but her words are lost to her. She continues to gaze up at those bright blue orbs tucked underneath flaxen bangs, Armin’s cheeks dusted a nice shade of red as he stares back at her. Annie reaches up, blindly, desperate, and holds his cheek. Armin leans into her touch with a soft sigh that makes a fire blaze through her body, but his skin is cold, devoid of the warmth that a normal human body should retain. Annie winces at this.

Her hand jerks back slightly as though touching him had stung her, and he watches her tentatively pull her hand back before parting his own lips to speak.

“ _Annie,_ ” he says, his voice everywhere and nowhere all at once, uttering her name like a prayer —like a promise. Annie feels desire lick through her system, begging, aching, desperate for him to just fucking _touch her_.

Armin leans down, hesitant, and a lump forms in Annie’s throat before she tilts her head up, closing the gap between them, kissing him.

Cold stings her lips, chilling her core, but when Armin kisses her back, she pushes the slight discomfort away as a way of making room for her arousal. He pushes further, harder, deepening the kiss, and Annie responds in earnest, letting her tongue lick at his bottom lip, asking for entry. Armin gets the message—he parts his lips for her as his hands ghost up her waists, her hips, her torso.

Soon, their tongues are battling for dominance, but Annie doesn’t put up much of a fight—she lets him win. A tongue slips into her mouth as she pulls hers back, rolling through her cheek before dipping down to meet hers once again.

And—okay, here’s the thing.

Annie is _trying_ to enjoy this moment.

But she can’t exactly with the sudden chills that keep rolling through her body. Cold floods through her mouth, her inside freezing over as though there’s a blizzard in her belly. She tries to let herself enjoy the kiss and Armin’s exploring hands that roam over her ribs, slipping underneath her shirt, groping at her exposed skin, but then she starts to shiver violently.

She feels sick.

She feels uncomfortable.

She feels…

_…cold._

And then she can’t take it.

The cold starts to become overbearing.

So she reaches her hands up stiffly, her movements jerky as she cups Armin’s face and tugs him off of her. He gives her a look of such confusion and hunger in which it has Annie blushing despite the sudden shiver that rattles through her.

“ _I’m so cold,_ ” she says. It’s meant to come out as a murmur, but instead, it’s loud and desperate and almost panicked, like she has no filter.

“ _I’m sorry,_ ” he says like it’s _his_ fault Annie is so cold. He pulls away from her, jerking his face out of her hold, and his body that once hovered over hers is gone in an instant. Now, he sits on his knees at the edge of the bed, his head lowered, staring into his lap. 

Annie scrambles to sit up, bracing herself on her elbows to peer at him curiously.

“ _Armin?_ ”

“ _I’m sorry,_ ” he says again, genuinely apologetic. “ _I’m sorry—shit, I’m so sorry_.” He turns away from her, making to leave, as though he’s done something wrong. Annie feels panic pierce straight through her very being when she watches him shift away and she immediately reaches out to clutch onto his arm.

“ _No, I’m sorry. It’s okay,_ ” she rushes to amend. But when Armin turns to look at her, his eyes are disbelieving. Those blue orbs, once so lively and gorgeous, are drained of life, and they do nothing but make unease emerge in Annie’s stomach. But she kicks the feeling down, stuffs it away, and reaches out to cup Armin’s face again.

‘ _Cold._ ’

She pulls his face to her and presses their lips together again and, as if to prove a point, she lets slip a tiny noise before pulling away to nod once at him.

“ _See? It’s fine._ ” And then she latches her lips onto his again, parting her lips for him and giving him access to her mouth.

For a horrifying moment, Armin just sits there, unmoving and jack slacked, and Annie fears she fucked up.

But that worry is gone in an instant, melting away when Armin pushes her down onto the mattress, groaning into her mouth as his hand lowers to hook her thigh up his waist.

Annie shivers when his hand slips effortlessly underneath her shirt again, moaning as he trails a path of ice on her milky stomach. Her mouth stings, going stiff at the cold, but she knows better than to pull away this time.

Sure, Armin is still cold.

But that’s okay. She said it’s okay, so it’s okay.

So she lets his fingers circle her navel. And she lets them slide up to where she isn’t wearing a bra. And she lets them trace over the swells on her chest. And she lets him detach his lips from hers to kiss along the length of her jaw. And she lets him lower to the dip of her clavicle. And she lets this all happen whilst her stomach churns with ice.

But then she shivers, involuntarily, and Armin’s movements come to a stuttering halt before he peers up at her questioningly. She gives him a wordless nod as an answer to his unspoken question— _yes, please, keep going_ —because she fucking _wants_ _this_ and she isn’t going to let some stupid shivers stop her from acquiring what she desires.

Armin obliges, rising up to meet her lips again, and something inside her just _snaps_. Her body goes stark as though she’s been submerged into icy-cold water, and she can’t suppress the whimper that crawls up her throat as tears start streaming down her face.

“ _A-Armin_ ,” she gasps, but it comes out like a sob—like an apology. He pulls away slowly, his lips kissed-swollen and red, but now Annie is crying because she’s so cold and it hurts so much and she can’t stop fucking shivering. “ _I-I can’t…_ ” she chokes, shaking her head. “ _I’m so sorry._ ”

He stares at her and tilts his head to the side, cocking a curious brow at her. “ _What is it?_ ”

Annie parts her dry lips, trying to force the words out of her dry throat, but then she clamps her mouth shut when a noise of discomfort threatens to escape.

She wants to tell him what’s wrong.

She wants to tell him that she’s cold.

But the words won’t _fucking leave_ her.

“ _P-Please_ ,” she manages to breathe, but the word is nearly indecipherable through the choked sob it comes out as. She shakes her head, reaching up and wanting to pull his body down to feel how cold hers has gotten, but her arms won’t move.

“ _Annie, tell me what’s wrong,_ ” comes his gentle voice. Annie whimpers when she hears her name spoken with such a gentle tone and that’s it—that’s her undoing.

And now she’s sobbing uncontrollably, her body writhing with pain as her bedroom around her slips away. The world falls apart. Everything fades into darkness. The walls of her bedroom turn abstract and Armin’s gorgeous yet lifeless eyes fade in and out of focus from the tears blurring her vision.

“ _I’m sorry._ ” She shakes her head. Her heart sinks to the pit of her stomach, landing with a hard thud that sends another shiver rolling through her. “ _I’m so sorry. I should’ve never pulled away. I’m sorry. Come back._ ” She starts to ramble an incoherent mess through her sobs and she screws her eyes shut when the world drains of color.

She’s cold.

So cold.

Everything hurts.

But if only she could just breathe normally.

Stop crying.

Stop crying.

Stop crying.

Just… inhale slowly.

Relax.

Steady your breaths.

Repress your tears.

And then…

  
  


Annie opens her eyes again to have the scene around her flood back into focus, although she’s alone—like she always has been.

She’s hesitant to move at first—afraid that if she lifts a finger, the gelid and the pain she felt will come screeching back to her—but then she exhales and makes to sit up. Her neck is stiff and she’s wincing when she turns it to view her phone across the floor, but she eventually manages to drag herself across her bed to reach for the handheld laying discarded on the carpet. When she picks it up, the bright screen blinds her as she squints at the time.

4:09 am.

‘ _Fucker._ ’

She closes her eyes and sighs.

Just a dream.

A stupid nightmare.

She finds herself dragging her feet to rise out of bed and she strips herself free of her clothing to don something more comfortable, slipping on a sweater and stepping into her grey sweats. She flicks on the light switch and squints against the bright light that floods her room. She looks down at herself to avoid the bright light and realizes that the sweater she wears is pale yellow as it falls to her thighs, and Annie frowns when she notices this.

Fuck.

She never returned Armin’s sweater, did she?

She pinches the fabric away from her torso to view the college name sprawled across the front and she inhales a shaky breath.

Armin.

_Armin._

She still loves him.

Annie shakes her head, dropping her hands to her side.

“I’ll get over him,” she murmurs as she opens the door to her bedroom. She steps out into the dark hallway, walking on light feet to the kitchen and flicking the light on. She hears a groan come from the living room which has her stiffening, starting as she turns to watch a figure rise from the couch.

It peers over at her and when blue eyes locks with amber, Annie sighs a breath of relief.

“Jesus, Hitch, you scared the shit out of me,” the blonde murmurs, just loud enough to be heard. 

There’s another tired groan from the couch before a tired, “sorry,” is heard.

Brown eyes follow the blonde as she takes the last slice of pizza from the box on the counter before she tosses it onto a flimsy paper plate and throws it into the microwave. Annie hears shuffling behind her and after setting the microwave to go on for 45 seconds, she looks over her shoulder to see Hitch roll off the couch and drag herself into the kitchen.

“Why were you on the couch?” Annie asks.

“I fell asleep watching a movie,” Hitch replies with a shrug, yawning right after.

“And Mina?”

“In her room.”

Annie hums quietly in response, opening the microwave and pulling her pizza slice out when it’s finished. She turns and when she looks up to see Hitch finally step into the kitchen light, she raises a blonde brow when Hitch staggers back in shock upon seeing Annie.

“What?” Annie asks, looking down at herself in search of the cause of Hitch’s dumbfounded behavior. When she fails to find anything, she looks back up at Hitch again. “ _What_?” She repeats.

“What’s wrong?” Hitch asks, sounding confused and… _tender_?

“What do you mean?” Annie hisses back.

Hitch points to Annie’s face. Annie remains confused.

“You’re crying.”

Annie stiffens. And then she turns to the silver refrigerator behind her and views her hazy reflection in the sleek material to see that her eyes are, in fact, swollen and red, and her cheeks are tear-stained. No, she’s not crying right now—but she was.

Annie turns back to Hitch and shakes her head. “It’s nothing.” She rubs a hand down the length of her face and sighs against the palm of her hand before she looks at her half-awake roommate again. “Just a nightmare.”

“Are you sure?”

Annie frowns. “What _else_ would it be?”

Hitch bites her bottom lip and her eyes flicker to the side before she shrugs. Annie can see it in her roommate’s eyes—Hitch has a supposal—but she doesn’t voice it, and instead, she murmurs, “nothing, I guess.”

Annie nods slowly. “Yeah, it’s nothing.” She swipes up her paper plate and turns to walk down the dark hallway back to her bedroom again. “Goodnight,” she grumbles.

“Uh, goodnight,” Hitch replies just as Annie’s door closes behind her.

Annie sighs as she leans against her door when it’s shut and she sinks to her knees, setting her paper plate down by her feet as she hugs her knees up to her chest.

No, it’s _not_ nothing. It’s a lot, actually. A lot that’s been plaguing her mind and dreams and emotions.

But as though she’d ever admit to that.

* * *

Two days after their little coffee/lunch date and five days after their camping trip, Armin is wandering his college campus when he sees Annie sitting on a bench in the courtyard. Her elbow is posted on the armrest and she leans her half-awake face against her fist, eyelids drooping slowly from her obvious exhaustion. He smiles upon seeing her and stalks towards the bench in the courtyard, slipping his backpack off his shoulders when he’s a few feet away.

“Didn’t sleep again?”

Annie violently startles, jolting awake at the voice that’s too fucking awake and too fucking enthusiastic compared to her right now. Armin chuckles slightly at her behavior, but his chortle is awkward and forced.

“Uhm, are you okay?” He asks as he sits down beside Annie on the bench she sits on in the courtyard. He sets his bag down by his feet and when he looks over to Annie as she rubs the sleep from her eyes, he notices her slowly inch away from him with a frown.

He can’t help but frown right back.

Well, al-fucking-right then. Guess she still isn’t comfortable around him.

And Armin could say that he’ll just wait for her, but he’s been getting impatient. Because there’s just only so long a person can wait for something they long for before they get restless and start wanting _more_.

“S-Sorry,” Annie stutters, dropping her hand with a sigh.

“What are you apologizing for?” Armin teases with a cock of his brow, his lip pulling up in a smirk.

Annie either doesn’t sense the teasing lilt in his tone, or she isn't a playful mood. “Nothing,” she shakes her head, “nothing, sorry.”

Armin is still grinning a bit, but when Annie turns to meet his gaze, his grin slides right off his face when he lights on the dark circles underneath her eyes.

“Oh my gosh. Are you okay?” He asks, genuinely.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

Armin furrows his brow. “No, you’re not.”

Annie’s thin brow twitches. “Why ask if you’re just going to say that I’m not,” she bites back, a bit defensive.

“Because I can tell when you’re lying,” Armin says, which is a partial truth. He scoots closer, ignoring the feeling of betrayal he gets when Annie flinches away from him. He raise a hand and pushes away at the blonde bangs on her face to place the back of his palm to her forehead. “You’re heating up,” he proclaims flatly.

Annie jerks away from him, her cheeks flooding red as red-rimmed blue eyes dart away from the hand drawn back to Armin’s side. She shakes her head and clicks her tongue, irritated and slightly stubborn. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not.”

She sighs tiredly. “Does it matter?”

“Yes!” Armin points an accusatory finger at her face. “You’ve been acting weird lately, you know that? It’s like you’re never comfortable around me. You’ve been distant, and—I don’t know—if you don’t want to be around me, you could just say so!” He says, hating the desperation and obvious _hurt_ that bleeds into his tone.

“It’s not… that I don’t want to be around you,” Annie murmurs, looking down like a guilty child.

“Then _what_ is it?” Armin begs, sounding more desperate than intended. Maybe a bit hysteric.

Annie falls silent, unable to meet his eyes, and Armin gives her a pleading look that only goes by ignored and unnoticed. He sighs, looking down, then asks in a quiet and unsure voice, “did I do something wrong at the camping trip?”

Annie flinches, and this is how Armin _knows_ his answer.

“No,” Annie says, a bit too quickly, like she’s trying to hide something. But it’s too late. Armin _knows_. “N-No, you didn’t.”

“If you want me to leave,” he murmurs dejectedly, “you could’ve just said so.” He says this as a last retort—maybe, if he’s _wrong_ , then Annie will tell him that he’s wrong and clarify that _yes,_ she _does_ , in fact, want him to stay. 

So he gets up, his body heavy, his mind praying to whatever God is above to _please please please let him be wrong for once in his life_. But even as he grabs his backpack off the ground and swings the strap over his shoulder, Annie doesn’t say anything.

She has this look in her eyes, like she wants to do or say something, but doesn’t know _how_ to. Her body jerks forward suddenly and Armin holds his breath, watching as her hand reaches out to grab onto his arm, but she stops mid-way, hesitates, and then draws her hand back to nervously roll her ring on her thumb. She doesn’t meet his eyes.

“Right… then,” Armin breaths, voice so thin and fragile and betrayed, unable to keep from cracking. He curses the embarrassment that floods through him when he notices the evident hurt in his tone as he turns away on his heel.

A part of him (a stupid, tiny, desperate part of him) is hoping that he’ll hear her call his voice out, telling him to come back. 

He clutches onto that tiny bit of fleeting hope, but it starts to slip through as he hands as he continues to walk ten paces away with nothing but silence behind him. He can’t help the disappointment that churns inside of him with each step he takes across the grass, and even as he tries to stuff it away, it stays, lingering.

Just as he’s about to round a corner, he turns back to look at Annie one last time—to just give her one last chance to just _fucking call his name already_ . So he wheels around slowly, eyes scanning the courtyard in search of Annie, but— _but…_

She’s not there anymore.

She’s just… gone.

He blinks a few times, like maybe his vision is just fucked up and maybe Annie will just pop out of nowhere, but she’s gone.

She’s _really gone_.

Armin grips the strap to his backpack tighter as ice-cold water runs through his veins.

He hates that the last feeling that fills his body is resentment.

* * *

When Armin walks away, Annie gathers up all of her shit and bolts to the bathroom with a heavy heart. She bursts into one of the stalls, ignoring the strange looks the other women give her as she slams the door shut and silently cries.

She grabs a bunch of toilet paper, bundling it up and pressing it over her mouth to dampen the whimpers that crawl up her throat.

Did she just lose Armin…?

No. No, she fucking _didn’t_ . She _didn’t_ —she _won’t_ lose him.

Actually, you know what? It’s okay that they had their little… quarrel, or whatever you want to call it. It’s okay that Armin stormed away. It’s fine, because this should serve as a message to him. A message that tells him that Annie is in need of space, and hopefully, he’ll understand, and he’ll give her room. And she’ll get over him. And then they can be friends again. And they can be _normal_ again.

This is just another slump in their friendship that they’ll overcome.

So… yeah, Annie didn’t lose Armin.

(‘ _Because you can’t lose something you never had in the first place_ ,’ a voice taunts in the back of her head _._ )

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Everyone keeps telling me that time heals all wounds, but no one can tell me what I’m supposed to do right now. Right now I can’t sleep. It’s right now that I can’t eat. Right now I still hear his voice and sense his presence even though I know he’s not here. Right now all I seem to do is cry. I know all about time and wounds healing, but even if I had all the time in the world, I still don’t know what to do with all this hurt right now.”  
>  ―Nina Guilbeau, Too Many Sisters


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ”There is one pain, I often feel, which you will never know. It's caused by the absence of you.”  
>  —Ashleigh Brilliant
> 
> ( get ready for the waterworks this chapter c: )

Things are not okay.

Not in a way Armin can put his finger on (quite literally; he hasn’t touched or been close to Annie for two weeks since their little dispute), but the fact that it isn’t tangible seems to make it all the more frustrating.

Because Armin will think—after a few days of Annie’s distant behavior—that he’s close to labeling whatever the hell that’s disrupting their friendship is, but then Annie will give him that tiny smile of hers, or she’ll giggle or she’ll let him remain closer than 3 feet away from her and Armin will think it’s all in his head. But then the next day, or hour, or minute (really, Annie’s behavior has been unpredictable), she will be uncomfortable around him all over again, and Armin will wonder what the fuck is going on.

He must’ve done something. He _has_ to have done something.

But _what?_

Spring break starts to roll by as the third week of March comes to a close, about two weeks into Annie’s “avoiding Armin endeavor”, and Armin finds himself leaving his last class for the next week feeling nothing but dread loom overhead. Being a college student is stress-inducing enough, but with all this distance that Annie has been putting between them, Armin finds himself more lonely than not. But at least he’s been starting to get used to this feeling of constant loneliness, despite how many people are around him.

It bothered him at first, but as the days continued to fly by and his schoolwork became more daunting and time-consuming, Armin didn’t mind the loneliness as much. Yeah, sure, it sucks not being able to enjoy having company as much as he used to, but—but…

...but he’s not sure how he’d help himself.

So maybe suffering isn’t so bad.

When he steps inside his apartment, he notes that it isn’t just his roommate inside. There’s another guy—a person with black hair and freckles whom Armin fails to recognize, but doesn’t find himself wanting to get acquainted with—so he simply waves a simple greeting before he shuffles into the bathroom.

“Is something wrong with your roommate?” Armin hears the guy ask before he closes the bathroom door.

“I’m not sure. He’s been pretty stressed lately, but it’s probably just school shit,” Jean’s voice replies.

Armin decides that he doesn’t want to eavesdrop lest he hears something he doesn't want to hear, so he quickly shuts the bathroom door and stares at his reflection.

Has he been stressed?

Looking at the hollowness there is to his cheeks, and how it seems as though his blue eyes have paled in color, and how his lips are dry and cracked, he decides that maybe he _looks_ stressed. And with the constant war that seems to be raging on in his mind, keeping him up at night and filling him with dread and making him feel as though he’s never fully here and ultimately making him wish that he could’ve known what the fuck he did so he can solve whatever’s been making Annie uncomfortable around him because he just wants to talk to her because he misses her and he hates this feeling of unease and—God _fucking dammit_.

Armin groans and throws his head back, kicking the spout open and cupping his hands under the running water before he splashes his tired face with the cold liquid.

He’s going to be fine.

Just give her _time_.

He turns off the tap water and lets the moisture of the cold water soak into his skin, half-waking himself up as he drags himself out of the bathroom.

“Yo, Armin. You good?”

He turns his head slowly to Jean who pulls two beers out of the fridge and gives one to his friend.

“Yeah, fine,” he grumbles back before he makes for his bedroom and throws himself onto the bed. The mattress sinks underneath his weight and he finds himself wishing, for a quick second, that the comforter would swallow him up forever.

He kicks his shoes off and crawls to the center of his twin bed, curling into himself and letting the emptiness that's been looming overhead slowly start to swallow him up. It hurts, really, longing for something (or some _one_ , in this case) that isn’t there. Wishing that he could just ask Annie, ‘ _what’s wrong?_ ’ Wishing he had a second chance for whatever the fuck he did. Wishing… longing… yearning.

Love hurts.

…

…

…

The sound of his bedroom door clicking open has Armin’s eyes flying open and he lifts his head to see Jean step into his room, flicking the lights on. It’s now when he realizes it’s dark, opposed to when he first arrived home when it was bright outside, and Armin quickly realizes that he was sleeping.

What time is it?

“You okay?” Jean asks.

Armin sighs and turns onto his side. “Why?” The word comes out as a grunt.

“I don’t know, you’ve seemed kind of messed up,” Jean shrugs.

Armin huffs out a breath, turning again to face Jean with a frown. “Well, I _have_ been messed up. That what you want to hear?”

Jean shakes his head. “No.” He turns back to look out into the apartment before he looks back to Armin. “Want to uh… talk about it?”

Armin shrugs. Does he? “Yeah,” he finds himself saying before he can stop himself. But then he shakes his head. “I-I mean… no. It’s stupid. It’s nothing worth talking about.”

“Of course it’s something. I can’t just ignore the fact that every day you come home looking worse than you did the day before,” Jean remarks with a scoff. “Is it school? Because let me tell you, you’re in your second year right now so don’t worry, in two years you’ll be done with this shit-“

“It’s a girl,” Armin blurts.

Jean starts, his eyes blowing wide to look at Armin. He never took him for the relationship type, Armin guesses, judging by the shock in his expression.

“See? It’s stupid, so-“

“What, do you need to get over her or something?”

Armin’s words cut short and he turns to Jean again. His roommate looks so genuine, it’s kind of scary.

But then he realizes that he does. Because with all this distance being put between them, Armin doesn’t find Annie getting close with him anytime soon. And he’s only hurting this much because he loves her—he only feels so much pain because he _cares_.

So maybe… he should stop caring.

“Kind of,” he replies with a grunt.

“Why? Did you guys break up, or...?”

Armin shakes his head. “No, it’s not that,” Armin snorts at the idea of Annie and him being in a relationship; to him, it sounds ideal, but the reality is that it isn’t probable because…

…just because.

“I just don’t want,” Armin gestures vaguely with his arms, “ _this_. ”

Jean hums slowly. “I get that.”

“Do you really, though?”

Jean narrows his eyes at Armin. “What, you don’t think I know what it’s like to have feelings?” He asks with a scoff.

“No, I do. But… I don’t think you’d understand how I feel. You just seem like you sleep with people a lot,” Armin admits. He only knows this because of how he’s occasionally seen Jean’s shopping basket, heard his not-so-quiet conversations on the phone, and noticed the empty condom wrappers in the bin after nights he’s spent away. He’s thankful Jean doesn’t bring anyone over when Armin is at home, because he is _not_ in favor of hearing… _that_.

Jean rolls his eyes at Armin. “Just because I have sex doesn’t mean I’m heartless. Half of the time, I do it just to get over someone else.”

Armin pulls a face. “So rebound sex?” He can’t help sounding disgusted—he was never the type for one-night stands or short relationships. He wants something long and lasting—he wants something permanent, not temporary.

But then again... he can’t help feeling slightly desperate for any sense of relief from his current situation.

“Well, kind of. But they know we’re not getting together after, and half the time they’re gone by the time I wake up.” Jean admits this with such ease, it has Armin frowning. It may be easy for Jean to sleep carelessly with people, but Armin isn’t like that. He gets too attached. He doesn’t have barriers—he trips into getting feelings too easily. He just… can’t.

Jean sighs. “Look, Marco and I are going out tonight. Since we’re on spring break, I was wondering if you wanted to come since we don’t have classes,” Jean suggests. It isn’t the first time Jean has invited Armin out, and today won’t be the first time Armin will decline because, really, partying and clubbing aren’t for him.

“I’m not too sure,” he replies.

“And what do you have going for you here? Staying in bed all day?” Jean asks with a snort. But then he sighs. “It could take your mind off of things and you could find a hookup,” he offers.

Armin shivers at the thought of sleeping with someone he just met.

“Come on, man. You don’t have to be like this over a girl, you know,” Jean murmurs.

Armin frowns. Annie isn’t _just_ a girl. She’s a girl Armin fucking _loves_.

But then he shakes his head.

‘ _No! That’s what I need to stop doing. I need to stop loving her,_ ’ his mind chastises at himself. And then he sighs. ‘ _Maybe this partying thing won’t be too bad of a start…_ ’

“Alright, fine,” Armin grumbles, bracing himself on his elbows before he completely lifts himself out of bed. Jean smiles, nodding behind him, gesturing out into the apartment.

“Okay, we’re leaving in an hour,” Jean says.

Armin nods, “okay.”

Jean closes the door behind him as he leaves and Armin flops back onto his bed with a sigh.

“Clubbing…” he murmurs, squinting up at his ceiling. He relents his gaze before he starts to glare at the ceiling fan and sighs, letting his eyes drift shut as he sits up in bed and stares at the grey wall in front of him.

The plan of getting over Annie is set to be mobilized. First objective: _get the fuck out of bed_.

* * *

Twenty minutes after entering the club, Armin realizes quickly that this really _isn’t_ his scene.

He’s already lost sight of Jean and his other friend, Marco his name is, so Armin has to forcefully unglue his feet from the floor and dodge the drunken bodies as he weaves through the throngs to make it to the bar. A girl tries to grab his arm, but he manages to slip out of her grasp before her ass makes contain with his groin as he plops down on a barstool.

His head instantly falls onto his folded arms on the counter as the music bounces off the walls, making the floor buzz and his ears ring.

This _isn’t_ his fucking scene.

“Anything I can get you?”

Armin manages to just barely lift his head to face the light voice of a young-looking woman behind the counter, cleaning a glass with a white cloth. The lady smiles almost sympathetically at Armin, a crease forming at the center of her blonde brows as they tilt upwards at the pitiful college student.

“Unless you have a rope I can tie a noose with, I’m fine,” Armin grumbles, his arms falling nimbly to his sides as he lays his head on the counter. The cold surface of the bar cools his warm forehead.

The bartender simply giggles as she takes out an ornate bottle from a shelf underneath the counter. “Rough night?” She asks, twisting the bottle open and pouring the maroon liquid into a cocktail shaker.

“More like rough month,” Armin replies. He lifts his head fully and finally sits up straight, watching as the bartender prepares a cocktail.

The woman hums a bit in response as she pours another drink into the shaker before she seals it and shakes it.

“Hey, can I see your ID?” The woman asks absently as she finishes and takes out a clean glass.

“Uh, okay, sure.” Armin takes his wallet out of his pocket and shows his ID to the woman, and she hums as her eyes skim over his age before she smiles.

“Alright.”

“What did you need it for?” Armin asks as he slips his ID back into his wallet. It’s not like he ordered anything.

“So that I know I’m not giving a younging a cocktail or anything,” she replies simply, pouring the drink she had been preparing into a glass filled with ice.

“Wha- drink? But I didn’t order anything,” Armin says quizzically.

She simply shrugs as she slides the glass over to Armin with a warm smile. “It’s on the house,” she murmurs. “Don’t tell my boss, though,” she chuckles, her voice dropping to a whisper.

Armin forces a chuckle back as he grabs the cocktail, staring at the light red liquid in the glass. A guy from the other side of the bar calls the bartender over, so she quickly leaves with a simple waved goodbye to Armin before she waltzes over to the next customer.

He takes a quick sip and is thankful that it doesn’t taste like gasoline like the shots Sasha had forced them to take on their camping trip had.

“You’re not going to dance?” comes an unfamiliar voice, hollering over the music but still sounding kind.

Armin turns to watch as the same guy from earlier walks over to him, his dark hair already wet with sweat from dancing. He’s smiling broadly, lips curling up into his freckled cheeks, and Armin wonders when the last time he smiled so wide and genuinely like that was.

“No,” Armin shakes his head. “The dancing stuff isn’t really… _me,_ ” he says.

“Yet you agreed to come with Jean and me to the club?” The guy snorts, taking a seat beside Armin and leaning back against the bar counter.

Armin sighs, deciding that he doesn’t have anything to retaliate with, so he simply shrugs and harrumphs before he takes a swig of his drink. It’s now when Jean’s friend, Marco notices his cocktail.

“That looks pricey,” he says, pointing to Armin’s cup.

Armin shrugs. “Probably was.”

“Probably?” Marco raises a dark brow. “You didn’t pay for it?”

“No, the bartender- she gave it to me on the house,” Armin replies.

Marco’s mouth pops open before he grins, looking over the counter to the woman making cleaning a glass with a white cloth. Armin follows Marco’s gaze and when he manages to catch the lady’s eye, she smiles and waves to him before she goes back to work. Marco lets out a mock whistle.

“Were you flirting with her?” Marco asks, tearing his gaze away from the lady to look at Armin.

Armin’s blond brows pinch in confusion. “What? No, I was just talking to her,” he replies. “You think I flirted with her to get a free drink?”

Marco snorts. “Seems plausible. Bartenders don’t just give out free drinks willy-nilly.”

Armin’s eyes narrow, and he finds himself glaring down at his drink. “Well, I _wasn’t,_ ” he grunts. ‘ _I can’t flirt with anyone because I’m in love with Annie,_ ’ comes his next, unbidden thought that instantly has him frowning.

“She must find you cute then. Who knows? Maybe you’ll get lucky tonight.” Marco shrugs as he turns to look at the numerous amount of people on the dance floor, grinding and yiking and just generally dancing with (and on) each other.

Suddenly, there’s a shriek cutting through the music, and then murmuring as everyone starts to back away from a certain area in the center of the dance floor. Armin tilts his head, trying to see through the crow of people to no avail in a futile attempt to see what’s happening, but Marco simply sighs tiredly.

“Probably a fight,” Marco says simply. “I’ll go check if it’s Jean.” He hops off the barstool and Armin watches as Marco starts to lead away before he turns back to Armin as if just remembering something. “Oh! And if you manage to score with the bartender, you can leave without Jean and I. We’ll find another way home.”

Armin feels himself grow red at the insinuation, but Marco simple laughs as he walks away before disappearing behind a group of people and into the center of the commotion.

Armin turns away, looking down at the ice in his drink that clinks against the glass as he tilts the cup in his hand. A quick glance up tells him that the bartender lady has been watching him over her shoulder, her brown eyes clouded with something that Armin can’t identify, but it sends a shiver zipping down his spine nonetheless.

The woman smiles and walks over to him and Armin’s eyes search around the club, unease building in his stomach as the woman nears him. ‘ _Oh shit, oh shit, she’s walking up to me. What’s she going to do? Is she going to flirt with me? Fuck fuck fuck what do I-_ ’

“Do you like the drink?”

Armin’s thoughts cut short when he hears her voice, so he quickly forces himself to meet her gaze to regard her with a wobbly smile. “Huh? Oh!” He looks down at the drink and then back to her, twice, before he finally responds. “Y-Yup! It’s good.” He nods, but when she raises a questioning brow at him (rightfully so—he is acting _so weird_ now), he takes a forceful swig of the drink to further prove that he enjoys it.

But then he fucks up—swallows wrong or drinks too much—because then he starts to cough. He sputters, face burning red at both embarrassment and at the fact that he can’t breathe, but the woman reaches over the counter to rub his back and Armin finally recovers. He looks up, cheeks hot red and eyes watery, and the woman offers him another sympathetic smile.

“You alright there, bud?” She asks.

Armin nods slowly and fixes his posture. “Y-Yeah, uh, sorry.”

“Eh, it happens,” she shrugs. But then her smile slides off her face and she’s frowning at him, giving him this look that just screams ‘ _I pity you._ ’ “But are you, like… okay?”

Armin snorts. “Nope,” he says easily, taking another, more careful sip of his drink. Then he chuckles humorlessly and looks at his reflection in the glass of his cup. “I’m far from it,” he murmurs, his voice inaudible over the music and the commotion of the fight behind them.

He notices the woman go quiet—obviously unsure of how else to lead on the conversation with that—so he forces himself to clear his throat and say something else to dissolve the tension that starts to force its way into the atmosphere.

“It’s just a girl, really,” he says with a snort. “Just trying to get over her.”

The girl sighs audibly—most likely in relief from the fact that she didn’t have to say anything else—and immediately replies with, “ah, I get that. My boyfriend cheated on me and I dumped him.”

Armin looks up at her and frowns, offering his most sympathetic expression to soothe her. “Oh, I’m sorry.”

But she only shakes her head and laughs. “Don’t be! It was a few months ago. I’m better now.” She smiles at Armin and he sees something in her expression that he envies—relief; the feeling of not having to host unwanted love that daunts simple everyday activity. He finds himself wishing that maybe Annie had a boyfriend, so he had no choice but to get over her. He finds himself wishing that he hated her, for a moment, because _then_ , he wouldn’t have to feel like this.

But the universe isn’t so kind, is it? Maybe, is some alternate, merciful reality, he wouldn’t have to yearn for her because he would _have_ her. In that reality, he would wake up at her side and smile upon seeing her sleepy face before he would let himself fall back asleep, holding her tight in his arms as though he’d fall off the face of the earth if he didn’t. In that reality, he would kiss her. He would hold her. He would _have_ her.

He wouldn’t fucking feel like this.

“But, hey, things get better,” the woman says, her smile shrinking when she notices that Armin’s frown doesn’t dissolve. In fact, his frown only deepens, showing his apparent emotions of distress.

Armin sighs and forces his expression to remain neutral. “I sure hope so,” he murmurs. He takes another sip of his drink and he watches as the lady parts her lips, but then a voice hollers for her—the same man from earlier, ordering another drink on the other side of the bar—so she simply offers him a smile before she leads off again to go back to work.

Armin sighs and lets his hands fall to his hands. He _wishes_ he lives in an alternate reality. Maybe he would live in one with fucking monsters—with giants that eat humans or some other bizarre shit—he doesn’t care. He just wishes that he lived in a world that gave him what he wants.

Because what he fucking wants is _Annie_.

* * *

By the time Armin finishes his drink completely, leaving the ice with nothing to do but melt at the bottom of his cup, the bartender swings by again. Around this time, the partying in the club has only gotten more intense, with everyone’s wassailing only being spurred on by the more people who flood into the night club. The fight earlier had dissolved a while ago, and Marco had told Armin that he would be taking Jean home (lest he gets into another fight because, yes, it was him who started the first fight), and Armin only waved them off as he finished his drink.

Ten minutes later, his head is spinning from the deafening music, and he’s sure that he’s going to wake up tomorrow with a ringing in his ears, and the woman giggles as she walks over to him.

“I see your friends left,” she says, reaching for another ornate bottle under the table—the same from last time.

“Yeah,” Armin hums, watching as she starts to make him another drink (or at least, he thinks it’s for him—he doesn’t mind either way).

She continues to make the drink and they make up small talk—they finally learn each other’s names (her name is Brielle, and upon learning this new information Armin tells her that she has a pretty name which instantly has her smiling and blushing)—but they don’t disclose any personal information. They talk about their interests (Armin discovers that she’s into painting and art) and even as she slides him round two of her sweetly intoxicating drink, they keep talking.

And _boy_ does she talk. She’s nice. She makes sure to ask Armin about himself and her laugh is kind of pretty, but Armin, still, even though he’s deep into their conversation and _smiling_ —he still feels alone. There’s something disrupting him from feeling entirely here in the back of his chest—something cold and abrasive that keeps pulling away from feeling anything _but_ sad.

Just sad… _all the time_.

Eventually, there’s a voice cutting into their conversation, “Excuse me!” And they both sigh before she finally leaves to help the person. Armin watches Brielle go back to work, and, yeah, she’s cute. Objectively. Her skin is fair, she has endearing freckles dotting her cheeks, her hair is blonde and it looks smooth in the tight ponytail it’s pulled back into, and her brown eyes are big and innocent, but…

...she _isn’t Annie_.

“Hey,” comes Brille's voice, although it’s dropped to a whisper as though she’s about to disclose secretive information. Armin looks up to face and sees her smiling excitedly. “I get off in ten. Want to get out of here?”

Armin doesn’t know what to do with his face—doesn’t know if he should smile or gape or scowl (okay, _definitely_ not scowl)—but then he nods. “Sure,” he says, unsmiling.

Her smile doesn’t falter by his probably less-than-ideal reaction—she simply says, “okay, good,” before she rushes back to the people who had just called her.

In the next ten minutes, Armin finishes his drink, and a guy takes Brielle’s place behind the bar. She grins as she removes her apron, telling Armin excitedly to give her five more minutes to get her stuff and change, and about twenty minutes have passed altogether when Brielle is finally ready to go.

Opposed to wearing her work uniform, she dons skinny jeans and a red blouse, and Armin notices that she took her hair out of its ponytail because, now, it’s in a messy bun.

The sight of blonde hair in a messy bun instantly has Armin’s heart aching in remembrance of the woman who _actually_ has his heart.

But then Brielle takes his hand, giggling and talking as she leads him out of the nightclub and down the dark sidewalk. Their feet walk in sync as Brielle rambles on and on with Armin occasionally piping in with his own comments, but he can’t help but feel as though the conversation is becoming one-sided. His mind starts to drift off, and he only fully drags himself back to reality when they round a corner and he sees a tall apartment complex in sight.

“Ah, this is my place,” she says, and Armin looks over to her as she snickers. Her brown eyes cloud with emotion for the second time that night, but this tie, Armin can identify what’s flood her eyes.

Lust.

He feels his face warm up.

Unease starts to build in his stomach as Brielle leads them forward and he frowns when she pulls him on the side of the apartment building, but he forces himself to relax with a sigh. He’s disappointed when his exhale doesn’t calm his nerves as much as he hopes it does.

‘ _This is to get over Annie,_ ’ he thinks as they step out of the glow of the streetlights.

‘ _It’s all to get over her,_ ’ he thinks as she presses him up against the brick wall.

‘ _This is to feel better, ultimately,_ ’ he thinks as Brielle wraps her arms around his neck and pulls his head down.

‘ _It’s to get over her,_ ’ he thinks as his lips connect with Brielle’s.

His plan of getting over Annie is finally being put into action. Troops have been deployed; supports are mobilized.

Final objective: _sleep_ with Brielle.

Even though his stomach is sinking because he doesn’t want to fucking do this…

...it’s all for the better…

...it’s all to get over Annie.

And so Armin lets Brielle drag him up the stairs and into her apartment.

* * *

**Twenty-five minutes earlier**

The drinks, the bodies, the lights, the vibrance on the dance floor—none of this is her.

But she’s only here because Hitch needs a ride home. She was just settled in bed, ready to fall asleep when her phone had hummed and she saw a text from her roommate, asking her to pick her up since she was drunk and her designated driver home, Mina, had taken shots anyways and is now wasted.

And Annie would’ve said no, but she’s not a _complete_ asshole, so she finds herself entering the nightclub in pajamas in search of her drunken roommates. She had sent them a text and called them, but they didn’t reply, so she simply sighed as she dragged herself inside the nightclub in search of her dormmates.

Luckily, her search doesn’t last for long—she manages to find Mina throwing up in the women’s bathroom with Hitch accompanying her—and now she finds herself hauling an unconscious Mina out of the restroom with Hitch and out of the club.

“You know she can’t handle her drinks well,” Annie hisses to Hitch, yelling over the music. “Weren’t you watching her?”

Hitch shrugs. “I didn’t see. Too busy dancing.” Her sentences run together and her words slur. Hitch hiccups, and then chuckles and excuses herself. Annie rolls her eyes at her, but then continues to walk to the exit when she sees a familiar face.

A familiar face that she doesn’t want to see.

Armin.

He’s sitting at the bar finishing up a red beverage and Annie’s heart lurches at the sight of him. She’s never seen him dressed like this before—a portion of his long hair is tied back to keep out of his face, and he dons tight-fitted jeans and a dark blue button-up—and when he reaches across the counter for his drink, the fabric stretches and makes his biceps bulge. Annie finds herself wishing she were right next to him so that she could see the gaps that would appear between his shirt buttons so she can peek at his skin.

And despite all of her previous efforts for the past two weeks, she finds herself drawn to him. She finds her feet moving toward him. She won’t stop.

“Annie? The exit’s over there,” Hitch says, nodding over to the exit on the other side of the club.

Annie simply dismisses her with a shake of her head. “Wait, I think I see a friend,” she says. And even though there’s a voice yelling at her in her head, telling her to take her roommates home, she ignores it, because there’s just something _about_ Armin today. The strobe lights dance on his skin and he looks like he’s fucking glowing with color—Annie can’t take this.

She picks her feet up, her pace accelerating, because all she wants is to say hi that's it nothing else she _swears_ she won’t stay and talk to him or hug him or cry or try to kiss him she won’t she won’t she won’t just please let her talk to him it’s been so long she just-

Annie halts.

There… that’s… another person.

She watches, raptly, as another girl comes around from the bar, smiling and blushing straight at him. Annie watches as Armin turns to her just as he finishes his drink and smiles right back at her. Annie watches as the girl takes his hand, lacing their fingers together, and leads him away from the bar. Annie watches as the girl drags him outside of the club, giggling as she speaks with him. Annie watches as they leave. Annie watches…

The world slips away. The music quiets, the lights dull, the people freeze. In a moment, everything’s gone. Her heart vanishes and her sight blurs. Was that… his girlfriend?

Was that a hookup?

“Annie!”

Annie jumps. Slowly, everything comes back to her, and soon she can hear the music loud and clear, right next to the sound of Hitch calling her name right over it.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Hitch hisses. “Let’s go!”

Annie inhales slowly and nods. “Yeah, sorry.”

Movement comes back to her and when she starts to feel her legs again, Annie forces herself forward. When they leave the club and drag Mina to Hitch’s car, Hitch gives Annie the key before she slips into a world of half-consciousness in the passenger seat.

Annie starts the car and the engine hums underneath her feet, and then somehow, someway, she manages to drive. Despite the chaos raging in her mind, she manages to function.

And as she drives back to her dorm, she sees Armin and the same girl from earlier, walking along the sidewalk with their hands intertwined. The car comes to an abrupt, screeching stop as Annie watches, and watches, and watches them. They round a corner and the girl pushes Armin against the wall, and Annie feels her mouth pop open.

“No…” Annie whispers, frowning. Tears form in her eyes but she quickly blinks them away.

She shakes her head, watching as the girl pulls Armin’s head down and wraps her arms around his neck.

“No… _nonononono._ ” She keeps shaking her head, _watching_.

‘ _This isn’t…_ ’

Armin doesn’t struggle in the girl’s grasp.

‘ _…no, this can’t…_ ’

The girl giggles, murmuring something before she tugs his head down fully.

‘ _…please tell me this isn’t happening…_ ’

Their lips connect.

‘ _…no. No! Please… fucking no…_ ’

And Armin kisses her back.

“No!” Annie gasps, her hand flying up to her mouth to silence whatever noise that tries to leave her. Her tears start to flow and now there are whimpers falling falling _falling_ from her lips as she sobs into her hand.

When Hitch groans in the passenger seat, stirring from her rest, Annie turns her head to hide her face and hurriedly wipes her tears away, although her breaths won’t stop stuttering and her body can’t stop trembling and her tears _won’t stop flowing_.

“Annie?” Hitch groans, murmuring something before she shifts up in her seat to look at their surroundings. “Why'd we stop here? Are we home already?”

Annie exhales a shaky breath that has her chest shuddering and shakes her head. “N-No,” she squeaks, her voice jumping an octave when it cracks. “Uhh… I just had to uh… check something. I’ll wake you up when we’re home.”

“Mmn. Okay.” And then Hitch turns over to her side and drifts back to sleep.

Annie exhales a stuttering breath and closes her eyes—squeezes them shut in hopes that when she opens them, everything will be gone. When she opens her eyes, she’ll be in her room—she’ll be in bed, and she’ll realize that this is all just one, sick twisted dream. When she opens her eyes, when she opens her eyes, when she opens her eyes.

After what feels like an eternity, Annie’s eyelids lift open. Her shoulders slouch in disappointment when she realizes that she’s still in the car, so she swallows hard as her blue eyes slowly drift over to where Armin and that other girl just was.

She exhales an audible breath of relief when she sees that the spot on the wall is empty.

‘ _I imagined it…_ ’ she thinks as she steps on the gas pedal.

‘ _My stupid overactive imagination,_ ’ she thinks as she drives forward.

‘ _I imagined it all._ ’

But then she looks at the apartment complex building and when she sees Armin step inside one of the rooms with the girl, blue eyes widen and Annie can’t find her gaze returning to the road.

A loud honk has her startling back to reality and she frantically stomps down on the brakes before she t-bones a car after running a red light and she sighs.

She didn’t imagine it at all.

Armin… has a girlfriend.

Another tear slips down Annie’s cheek. ‘ _I expected this I expected this I expected this,_ ’ she frantically thinks as if to think some sense into herself. ‘ _I knew Armin would have a girlfriend, I knew it! But… but…_ ’

Just because you know when something's going to happen doesn't mean that it still doesn't come as a shock to you.

And Annie knows this all-too-well.

* * *

She isn’t quite sure how she managed to get home, but she did. Because even though her head was spinning and her heart was reeling with incredible suffering and she just wanted to cry cry cry, she still managed to push through.

She managed to drive her roommates home.

Now Hitch and Mina are successfully asleep, so Annie leaves the dorm with her phone tucked in her sweatpants pocket to take a walk. The early spring air is brisk up against her skin, and her eyes sting as tears threaten to spill. She isn’t exactly sure where she’s going, she’s only headed towards where her feet will take her.

But Armin and that other girl… are they dating?

Annie doesn’t know why, but… she feels weird. She feels heartbroken.

But she should be _fine_. She was getting over him—she was! She was doing so well! Why… does it fucking hurt so much?

Annie sighs and drops her head.

She watches the ground as she walks, making sure that the earth didn’t just shatter underneath her feet.

It’s quiet.

There’s no noise, no nothing. The occasional sound of a car driving by in the street, but that’s it. Everything else is quiet. She feels ruined. It hurts.

She cries.

She picks up her pace as tears slide, one by one down her cheek. Her heart lurches, and each time it leaps, Annie picks up her pace, until she’s sprinting. She’s running. She’s trying to get away.

She veers right, off of the pavement of the sidewalk and into the woods.

‘ _Where am I going?_ ’

Her mind doesn’t answer her.

She’s just running running running because it all hurts so much.

And then there's water on her cheeks—not from her tears, but from the sky. And as she ducks away at some branches, rain starts to pour, and she gets cut on her exposed arms from the stray greenery around her. Everything’s spinning. Her mind is reeling. She could puke, or cry, or scream, or-

Annie stops, doubles over and grabs onto her stomach, and then hunkers over by a tree and purges her insides. She feels sick.

She feels hurt.

Is that what heartache feels like?

But… maybe this is a misunderstanding. Yeah, that’s it. Just a misunderstanding.

Annie clings to that last bit of hope and takes her phone out of her pocket with trembling fingers, searching for Armin’s contact. When she finds it, she presses call, and she brings her phone up to her ear. It rings once, twice, thrice, and then…

“ _Hello?_ ”

Annie stiffens.

That’s _not_ Armin’s voice.

“ _Hey, uh, are you a friend of Armin’s?_ ” The girl asks, and Annie hates her voice already—she hates it because it’s so nice and she wishes that the girl sounded mean so that Annie could be mean right back but she _can’t_.

So she simply says, “who is this?”

“ _I’m uh…_ ” The girl’s voice trails off and she gives an awkward giggle. “ _I’m Brielle. Armin’s a bit… busy right now._ ”

Annie frowns and sighs. Her heart aches. She _knows_ why he’s busy. She was just hoping that it wasn’t true.

But it is.

And all the hope she had shatters into a million other pieces.

“ _Hey,_ ” a faint voice in the background says, and Annie instantly recognizes it.

Armin.

“ _Who is that?_ ” Armin asks, his voice far away.

“ _Uh, a girl’s calling you, her name is-_ “

Annie quickly pulls her phone away from her ear and hangs up before she hears anymore. She can’t take listening to them talk. She can’t...

She starts running again.

A scream burns in the back of her throat and she parts her lips and cries out into the night. She’s crying and screaming and running because it hurts. And then she closes her eyes as images of Armin and that… that _bitch_ flash through Annie’s mind. Of them kissing. Of her taking him into her apartment. What are they going to do? Annie _knows_ what they’re going to do.

She yells again and then she takes a bad step and slips on the mud. She cries out when her foot gets caught on the edge of a tree and trips, tumbling forward and onto the ground. Mud splashes around her, coating her sweatpants in the wet dirt as the rain continues to crash down onto her. She sticks an angry fist into the mud and it flies onto her cheeks and now she’s dirty and sobbing and shaking violently.

She should go back.

She needs rest.

She needs to calm down.

She needs-

 _Armin_.

“I-I’m s-sorry… fuck!” She pulls her loose shirt up and sobs into it. “Fuck!” She screams again, her throat closing up.

She staggers as she leans and pulls herself up to her feet, using the tree behind her to steady herself. And then she takes off again, numb with fear and despair because she sorry, she’s so _so_ sorry that she pushed Armin away. She just didn’t want to be hurt! But she’s sorry! Okay just give her one more chance, please _please!_ She’s fucking _sorry!_

The low limbs of the tree start scratching at her exposed skin again and soon, it’s not only her tears pouring endlessly down her face, but a trickle of blood from a shallow cut on her cheek. The metallic taste of blood and salt from her tears start to invade her tastes but she doesn’t care! She’s just sorry!

The trees are racing by her again and now she’s struggling to move. Her limbs feel like lead. Her heart is heavy. She’s sorry. She’s just sorry.

When she emerges on the other side of the woods, she falls onto her knees when her feet hit the concrete. She lands with a hard _thud_ and she chokes on her saliva as her hair slips out of its loose bun and starts to stick to her face. She looks ruined. She _feels_ ruined. She’s _sorry_.

She is so sorry.

Armin, can you hear her?

"...nie..."

She's sorry.

"...Annie..."

Please forgive her.

"Annie?"

She won't push you away anymore, she promises she won't...

"Oh my god..."

Armin? Can you-

“Annie!”

Annie sucks in a sharp breath, but she can’t move her head.

She raises a hand to shield her eyes when blinding headlights flash onto her face. There’s the screeching of a car coming to a halt, then a car engine stopping followed by the sound of a car door swinging open and then slamming shut.

“Annie?! Holy shit, it _is_ you! Are you okay?”

She manages to lift her heavy head and she slowly turns to watch as one of her friend’s figure steps into the light.

Sasha.

“Jesus, are you trying to get yourself killed? I heard you scream!” Sasha demands as she runs up to the blonde and kneels by her side. But then her face falls, flooding with concern. “God, are you _okay?_ ”

Annie shakes her head and her body nearly falls over, but then there’s a warm around encircling her and keeping her steady. “I’m… fucked,” she murmurs. Her voice doesn’t sound like herself.

“What happened?” Sasha asks. But then shakes her head. “Ah, fuck, forget that. Let’s get you out of here.” She rises up to her feet and hauls Annie up with her. Annie staggers to her feet, her foot slips on the wet ground, but then Sasha has an arm around her again.

Slowly, the two make it to Sasha’s car, and Sasha cranks the heat up on full blast before she turns in the driver’s seat to look at Annie in the passenger. Even though she doesn’t look up to meet her gaze, Annie can still feel Sasha’s powerful state boring through her in her peripherals.

“What the fuck happened?” Sasha asks, the words stern yet concerned.

Annie sighs, but then chokes on her own breath as a sob threatens to escape. What happened. _What happened?_

‘ _I’m fucking overdramatic, that’s what happened._ ’

“Annie, talk to me,” Sasha begs. Annie frowns, parts her lips, but then sighs and shakes her head. She reaches a hand up to her shirt and presses a palm over her heart which beats, although it feels foreign. Every other pulsate is dull, hollow, devoid of any human emotion. She feels empty. There’s a large, black, gaping hole in her heart, swallowing up the rest of her organ as well as her entire body with it. She’s sinking, falling, aching.

And then she’s crying again.

But it’s not horrible—tears just start to fall. But still, she’s still hurting.

“Annie,” Sasha murmurs gently. She places a hand on the blonde’s shoulder and she nearly jumps out of her skin, surprised that she can still feel anything with the numbness consuming her entire being.

“He’s gone,” Annie manages to whisper.

“Gone? Who’s gone?” Sasha asks.

Annie only shakes her head. “He’s gone,” she repeats. “He’s gone, he’s really-“

“Oi,” Sasha snaps, and Annie starts at the sternness to her tone. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Annie closes her eyes and, finally, meets Sasha's gaze. The genuine concern in the brunette’s expression has a whimper crawling up Annie’s throat.

“I’m sorry,” Annie murmurs. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Sasha offers her another look of concern, but then she sighs. “Alright. I’m taking you back to your dorm, and I’m coming inside and fucking taking care of you,” Sasha insists with finality, and Annie doesn’t try to argue it because, really, it would feel nice to actually have someone take care of her. Because Hitch and Mina are both passed out drunk and right now, Annie just needs someone.

Anyone.

 _Armin_.

She sinks her teeth into her quivering bottom lip as a final tear slips down her face.  
  


Armin finally found love...

and Annie is heartbroken.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THE END!!
> 
> okay, I'm kidding, this isn't actually the end. This is probably as bad as it's gonna get. I'm sorry for making you all go through that, but it was painful for me too okay (╥﹏╥)


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uhhh... sorryyy for last chapter. hehe that was a bit of a doozy...
> 
> but anyways! anime-onlys, don't fret, Brielle isn't actually a manga character I just made her up.  
> and in case anyone is wondering, this book is currently set in March. The first week is when Eren and Mikasa had their spring break and when the ( _ ~~hectic~~_ ) camping trip ensued, and we are currently in the third week. Just wanted to let you know :)
> 
> also, DID ANYONE SEE THE NEW TRAILER FOR AOT S4?? IM SO FUCKING JAZZED MY BODY IS READY
> 
> [but also my body isn't ready because after reading the manga i just- (╥﹏╥)]

This doesn’t feel right.

The hands in his hair, tugging at the blond strands on his scalp, and the lips kissing their way down his neck, sucking and biting relentlessly—none of this feels right.  _ None _ of it.

But Armin doesn’t resist.

Both him and Brielle trip into her apartment and she shuts the door with her foot, her hands too busy scrambling up his sides and rucking his shirt up. She doesn’t bother turning on the lights—just forces Armin into one of the rooms at the end of the entryway (presumably her bedroom) and then she pushes him forward. Armin catches himself before he crashes into the wall, his fingers grabbing onto a wooden desk, and he peeks over his shoulder to see sketch paper scattered atop the desk with pencils right next to it.

Ah, right. She did say she was into art, didn’t she?

Before Armin can even try to look at what’s sketched on the paper, there’s a hand in his jaw, tilting his face down so that Brielle’s lips can connect with his again. She licks into his mouth and pulls him back with her, stepping away from the desk to the corner of the room. Eventually, her leg hits the edge of the bed, and they both collapse onto the mattress. Armin is flipped over before he knows it and now Brielle is hovering over him with a smile, her dark eyes barely visible because of the lack of lighting.

“You’ve been waiting for this,” Brielle says, not really making a question out of it.

Armin murmurs something incoherent, bright red, but Brielle simply giggles and kisses his temple. “You’re cute,” she whispers against his skin before her lips trail down and start clinging to his neck.

And Armin sighs.

His body is reacting normally—he can already feel himself start to nurse the beginnings of an erection in his jeans—but his mind feels strange. His heart feels dejected. Because this isn’t right. This girl on top of him isn’t Annie. She  _ isn’t _ who he wants.

“I-I don’t…” Armin groans when she pulls them up to a sitting position so that she’s sitting on his lap.

“Shh,” she hushes, her breath tickling his skin. “Don’t worry, I know I’m not who you want.” Her hands ghost up his sides before she places them on his torso and feels his abdomen. “Just pretend,” she murmurs before she’s kissing him again.

Armin’s mind reels when he feels her slowly rock her hips forward against his erection, and he groans.

‘ _ This is wrong wrong wrong. _ ’

He doesn’t notice that Brielle is undoing his shirt buttons until she pulls her lips away from his neck to take off his upper apparel. She gives him an expectant look, panting and ready, but Armin feels hesitance build within him and make his limbs leaden with reluctance.

This isn’t who he wants.

Those brown eyes aren’t of the girl he desires.

Those freckles don’t belong to the one who has his heart.

This  _ isn’t _ Annie.

“Man, you really are new to this, huh?” Brielle murmurs, tugging his shirt off of him when Armin fails to move. “Don’t worry, you won’t have to do anything if you don’t want to.”

She rocks her hips again and Armin hisses because now there’s a tight bulge straining against the restrictions of his tight jeans. Brielle titters, her hands drifting down his exposed chest before she grabs onto his belt.

“Just… just help me a little bit?” She asks, breathing heavy against his skin. She leans up to pull him into another kiss that only sends more discomfort through him.

“I… fuck,” Armin shakes his head and leans away from Brielle. She gives him a questioning look, but Armin simply sighs as he shimmies out from under her. She eventually gets his message and mounds off of his lap.

“I can’t do this,” Armin murmurs, moving to sit at the edge of the bed. He puts his elbow on his knee and frowns at the dark floor, but then there are arms at his back, encircling him.

“Come on,” Brielle whines. “I know you love someone else, and I do too, but this’ll help.” And then she crawls over to him completely and kisses his cheek.

Armin flinches away from her.

Brielle sighs audibly, but then her hands slip away from him as she sits back on her folded legs atop the bed.

“Sorry,” Armin says, shaking his head. “Where’s the bathroom?” He forces out.

“To your right.”

Armin nods, rising off the bed and dragging his feet out of the room. He pushes out of the room and into the bathroom, closing the door behind him and staring at his reflection.

This isn’t right.

Brielle isn’t who he wants.

He wants  _ Annie _ .

He groans and leans back against the door and sinks to his knees.

He feels weak. The girl outside this door is waiting for him, expectant for something that he can’t give, so he has to reject this.

But here’s the thing: she’s  _ nice _ .

Armin doesn’t want to hurt a nice girl.

But…

…he doesn’t want to do this either.

He picks himself off the floor and finally peels himself off the door. He sets his hand in the cool doorknob, gripping the metal so tight that his knuckles lose color before he twists it and swings the door open.

“…….are you a friend of…….?”

Armin steps out into the hall and just barely manages to hear Brielle speaking, her voice quiet and faint. He stiffens, wondering who the hell she could be talking to, before he forces himself forward. He steps inside the room and sees her sitting on the edge of the bed, speaking to someone on  _ his _ phone. He hadn’t even noticed that it slipped out of his pocket.

“Hey,” he begins, his voice rough.

Brielle turns to face him, his phone still clutched tightly to her ear.

“Who is that?” He asks, frowning.

“Uh, a girl’s calling you,” Brielle begins, peeling his phone away from her ear to view the screen, “her name is- oh.”

“Oh?”

“She hung up,” Brielle murmurs absently, holding up his phone and showing him the dark screen. Then she places his phone down on the comforter and shrugs. “It’s okay, you can call her later,” she says, crawling off the bed. Armin watches as she approaches him and wraps an arm around his neck, pulling him down to meet her lips again.

He doesn’t find himself kissing back this time.

“Hey,” Brielle says when they pull apart, “wanna do it in the bed, or…?”

Armin inhales a shuddering breath and swallows hard. “What?” He asks hoarsely.

“I mean, I’ve done it in the bed a million times.” She holds a hand up and waves vaguely in a circle, as though to represent the countless times she’s ‘ _ done it in the bed.’ _

When Armin hears this, his cheeks burn bright red again. “Wh-What?” He asks dumbly. He didn’t realize that this isn’t her first time doing this.

Brielle snorts and suppresses a guffaw. “You’re new to this, aren’t you?” She repeats, although it’s a rhetorical question since she knows that the answer is  _ yes _ .

Armin has to refrain from asking ‘ _ What? _ ’ again, so he instead swallows and asks, “this isn’t your first time?”

“Having a one-night stand?” She snickers. “No, it isn’t. How else do you think I got over my cheating boyfriend? Ooh!” She smiles excitedly and pulls Armin out of the room and into the kitchen. When they reach the island in the center of the cramped kitchen, she leans against it and pulls Armin close to her. “Let’s do it here,” she murmurs.

Armin swallows. His boner hurts, but still…

...no.

“Come on,” Brielle whines, pulling her face into a pout. “It won’t suck. Well, maybe  _ I _ will. Suck, that is,” she giggles.

Armin’s blow wide and when his stomach churns with uncertainty, he tries to pull away.

Brielle, apparently, has other plans.

She wraps her arm around his back and pulls him close, rutting their hips together and sighing pleasantly. Armin can barely make out her face in the dark, but he can still see her bright red blush. “C-Come on,” she exhales, rocking her hips against his. She takes an unsteady step forward which has the both of them tripping into the living room anyways, and Armin lands on his ass on the couch.

Brielle brings herself to straddle him again and she places her hands in his shoulder, eyes half-lidded and lustful. She traces her fingers over his lean torso, using every opportunity she gets to finger the slight muscle lining his arms.

Then, she rocks forward again, driving her hips all the way forward so that her brows tilt upwards as she moans out into the unilluminated space around them. She leans forward, grabbing tightly onto Armin as she continues to rock against him, and Armin groans because this  _ feels good _ but it  _ isn’t right _ and he  _ doesn’t want this _ .

But then her hands are at his belt buckle again, and then she’s lifting her hips off of him and yanking his jeans down, making him hiss at the pain that shoots through his semi. When he’s down to nothing but his boxers, she’s grinding their clothed sexes together again, pulling her blouse off to expose her lacy bra before she leans in to kiss him again.

“B-Brielle,” he manages to croak out, tilting his face away from her to avoid her lips. “Stop,” he mutters, putting his hands on her hips to halt her frantic movement. She comes to a stuttering stop and leans back just to look at him, although her hips still remain tilted toward his bulge sprouting through his boxers as though she’s ready to grind against him again.

“I can’t do this,” he murmurs again.

Brielle frowns. “You don’t like this?” She asks, although she sounds like she’ll doubt his answer if it’s anything but  _ yes _ .

But Armin says no anyways. “I don’t… I’m still in love with her,” he sighs. He grabs Brielle’s shoulders, lifting her off of him and then leaning back on the couch. “I’m sorry.”

Brielle frowns at him, but then sighs. “Whatever,” she murmurs, standing up and walking out of the living room, disappearing into her bedroom again and then exiting with his phone. She tosses it at him and it lands on the cushion beside him. “Leave when you want to,” says Brielle, sounding bored when she walks into her room again and shuts the door. When Armin hears the familiar  _ click _ of a lock clicking shut, he sighs and then leans his head back against the cushion.

His eyes drift up to the dark ceiling and there are a mix of emotions making his stomach churn now, as well as the slight floaty feeling he gets after he drinks from the cocktails he drank that night. All of it sends his mind spinning.

He didn’t do it.

He  _ couldn’t _ do it.

Because of…

Annie.

Fuck.

He’s not over her.

He’s not over her.

But he  _ needs _ to get over her.

Fucking  _ when? _

After a few minutes of glaring up at the ceiling, Armin manages to slip back into his jeans, avoiding his painful erection because there is no way in fucking hell he is going to relieve it by jerking off in Brielle’s bathroom, and when he searches for his shirt in the living room to no avail, he realizes, with a twist of his stomach, that it’s in Brielle’s room.

He’s going to have to go back in there and get it.

‘ _ Fuck, _ ’ he thinks.

Fuck is correct.

Slowly, he shuffles back to her room and he raps his knuckles against the door. First, he hears faint footsteps, and then the lock clicks open and Brielle’s figure emerges from the other side of the door.

“What?” She asks. She doesn’t sound mad, but she doesn’t necessarily sound pleased either. Just… bored. Disappointed.  _ Annoyed _ .

Armin swallows, rubbing awkwardly at the nape of his neck. “My uh… shirt,” he grumbles.

She nods slowly, turning around and grabbing his shirt off the floor, seemingly unfazed by the fact that she’s still shirtless and Armin can see her boob nearly popping out of her bra.

“Here,” she says, bundling it up into a ball before tossing it to him. Armin manages to catch it before it hits his face.

“Thanks,” he murmurs, shrugging his shirt back on and doing the buttons up again. “I’ll be uh… leaving now.”

Brielle nods. She doesn’t seem like she wants to walk him to the door. Figures.

“Oh hey, Armin?” She says just as he starts to walk away.

Armin hums back in response, looking over his shoulder to see Brielle…

… _ smile _ at him.

“You’ll get over her,” she says, and it’s now when Armin realizes that the smile she’s giving him is the same smile she first gave him when they met earlier that night.

A sympathetic smile.

He smiles right back, his smile retaining the same amount of sympathy because he pities himself, too.

“Thanks,” he murmurs before he leads off, slipping his shoes on at the door before he leaves completely.

The air is cold, he notes, and he pulls his sleeves up to his hands in a makeshift attempt to protect his fingers from the early-spring weather. Knowing that Jean is most likely drunk, and that Marco is most likely nursing a drunken Jean, Armin knows that he only has one person he should call who would most likely still be awake and sober at this time.

So he pulls his phone out and finds the contact. He calls, brings the phone up to his ear, then listens to it ring before…

* * *

“Hello?” Sasha says into the receiver.

“ _ Oh, Sasha, _ ” the voice on the other side says, most likely surprised since she’s the one answer the phone and not actually Annie, who is currently a mess.

“Yeah, it’s me. What do you want, Armin?”

“ _ Uh, I… kind of need a ride. _ ”

“A ride?” Sasha scoffs. “Where are you?”

“ _ Hard to explain. Just not anywhere close to home. _ ”

Sasha sighs, looking down at Annie who rests her head against her lap, finally asleep after about an hour of crying. She sighs again. “I… can’t. Busy.”

“ _ Oh, oka- Wait, why do you have Annie’s phone? _ ”

Sasha stiffens. “She’s… sick,” she decides to say, since she  _ knows _ what happened because (after what felt like years of asking Annie  _ what’s wrong? _ ) Annie finally told her what had happened. Everything. From start to finish—from the text message she saw between Eren and Armin, to now; when she saw Armin leave the nightclub with some other girl.

And here’s the thing, Sasha  _ knows _ that Armin is a good person and that he would never do anything to intentionally hurt Annie, but hearing him talk right now is making her pull a face despite herself.

“Why don’t you call your roommate?” She suggests.

“ _ He’s probably wasted, _ ” he sighs.

Sasha sighs too. “Well, you’re out of luck. Annie is…” Sasha looks down at the sleeping girl, her cheeks tears-stained and her eyelids puffy and red. “Well, she could be better,” she murmurs. “And I’m taking care of her.”

There’s a sigh on the other end.

“Mmn, Sash?”

The brunette looks down at Annie, watching her stir in her lap. Slowly, the blonde opens her eyes and looks up at Sasha before she completely sits herself up. “What’s… is that my phone?”

Sasha nods, putting her hand over the receiver and tilting it away from her mouth. “It’s Armin,” she mouths.

Annie instantly stiffens and looks away. “Oh.” And then she sighs and extends her hand, giving Sasha an expectant look. Brown eyes flicker between Annie’s extended hand and Annie’s face, back and forth and back and forth, before they settle on Annie’s face.

“You sure?” Sasha whispers.

Annie nods. “Yeah, I want to talk to him.”

Sasha sighs, but then places Annie’s phone in her hand. When the handheld makes contact with her ear, Armin’s voice starts to flood into her hearing from the other side.

“ _.....sha…Sasha? ….Sasha, you still there _ ?”

Annie has to swallow hard before she speaks. Hearing his voice makes her stomach churn. “I-It’s me, Annie,” she murmurs.

There’s silence on the other end. And then, “ _ oh. Well, uh, Sasha said you’re sick. Are you okay? _ ”

Annie nods, but upon remembering that he can’t see her, she says, “I could be better.” She shifts where she sits to get more comfortable, folding her knees underneath herself. “What do you need?”

“ _ A ride _ ,” Armin sighs. “ _ B-But if you’re sick, I understand if you want to rest, _ ” he quickly tacks on, speaking so fast in which it nearly has him tripping over his own words.

Annie shrugs. “I uh…” She glances at Sasha, and the brunette gives her an encouraging nod as if to tell her to keep going. “Where are you?” She asks with a clear of her throat.

“ _ An… apartment complex, _ ” he admits.

‘ _ Of course, _ ’ Annie thinks, her grip tightening on her phone. That’s where she saw him last, isn’t it? When he was about to sleep with that…

…girl.

‘ _ Why don’t you sleep at your girlfriend’s place? _ ’ She wants to ask, both desperate and mad because how  _ dare _ he sleep with someone else when Annie has done so much to get over him. Doesn’t he know what she did to get over him because she didn’t want to ruin their friendship? That little-

“ _ Annie? You still there? _ ”

“Huh? Oh!” Annie quickly shakes her thoughts away. ‘ _ No,  _ **_no_ ** _. I have no right to be angry, _ ’ she thinks before she responds. “Yeah, Sorry. But uh… s-sure. I can pick you up.” The words are just rolling off her tongue now, unstopping, and she wishes she could close her mouth but she just can’t because there’s a part of her mind, compelling her to say this because she just needs to see him one more time. “Send me your location and I can be there as soon as possible.”

Armin says something on the other side that doesn’t register for her before the call ends. When she peels her handheld away from her ear, Sasha is looking at her with incredulity, as though her expression is asking her ‘ _ what did you just  _ do _? _ ’

And Annie wonders; what the fuck  _ did _ she do?

She set herself up for another heartbreak, maybe, but she just  _ has _ to see him.

“Do you want me to go with you?” Sasha asks, watching as Annie pulls herself off the couch and makes for the front door.

Annie shakes her head. “N-No, uh… no,” she murmurs. “I can do this myself.”

Sasha nods slowly, following Annie’s figure as she slips her shoes on at the door. “You can take my car,” says Sasha, just as Annie reaches the door. The blonde nods, murmuring a thank you as she grabs Sasha’s keys off the wall shelf before she scurries out the door.

It’s a bit past midnight now, and Annie is shivering as she walks downstairs her dormitory and into the parking lot. She unlocks Sasha’s car and when she settles into the driver’s seat, the first thing she does when she turns the engine on is crank the heat up.

Her phone chimes just as she buckles up and she peers down at it to see a text from Armin and his location, and she responds with a thumbs up emoji before she follows the directions to where Armin is.

* * *

The drive is nearly 20 minutes, but when she pulls up to the sidewalk, she sees Armin seated on a bench. She honks and he jumps in surprise, startled, and maybe Annie would’ve found herself snickering if she didn’t feel so discombobulated.

“Thanks for picking me up,” Armin says as he climbs into the passenger seat.

Annie nods slowly. Her throat starts to close her and her cheeks start to burn. Maybe it’s the heat? She starts to crank the heater down.

“Oh, there’s…” Armin’s voice trails off and he looks down at his feet. Annie follows his gaze and when she sees mud on the mat, her eyes widen almost comically.

That’s  _ her _ mud from earlier.

“Ah, it doesn’t matter,” Armin mutters. He quickly buckles himself into his seat and turns to Annie with a small smile. But even in the dim light, Annie still sees it— _ hickeys _ are on his neck. 

“Y-You have a little…” Annie clears her throat awkwardly and gestures to her own neck with her forefinger before she points to him. Armin, being the dense cabbage he is, only cocks his head to the side questioningly and raises a brow.

“What?” He asks.

Annie shakes her head, setting her hands back on the steering wheel. “Never mind.” And then she sets up the GPS for Armin’s apartment and follows the directions given to her. 

The first half of the drive is entirely silent, save for the occasional “turn right in a quarter of a mile” and so forth instructions given by the robotic voice for the GPS. During the entire first ten minutes, Annie can’t help but notice Armin shift uncomfortably every two seconds in his seat. But since it’s dark and the only light around them are the dim streetlights that zoom by as they drive down the street, Annie can’t see what’s bothering him.

But then they get to a red traffic light and when Annie  _ dares _ to steal a glance at him, she sees a bulge in his pants which instantly has her cheeks flushing bright red and her eyes blowing wide. She instantly looks away, but her blue eyes keep drifting to the side to keep peeking at him, and at one point Armin catches her eye, so he raises a confused brow at her.

“Is there something on my face?” asks Armin just as he flips down the sun visor to stare at his reflection in the tiny mirror on it. When he fails to spot anything out of place on his face, he pins Annie with another questioning stare which she doesn’t return; she now forces herself to keep her eyes pinned on the road, ignoring Armin’s confused expression in her peripheral vision.

But then Armin sighs, deciding to drop it. “You know, I’ve had a bit of a rough night,” he murmurs absently, leaning back and relenting his stare. Annie relaxes with a long exhale, slowly pressing on the gas pedal and turning right. She realizes, a bit too late, that she made a wrong turn, so she quickly circles back and makes a U-turn down the street.

“Oh really?” Annie forces out. “What happened?” She can feel her throat closing up, giving out—her voice fading.

Armin nods. And then he lets out a little, dry, humorless snort. “This girl,” he begins, and Annie frowns instantly, “she and I went to her place.”

“Yeah?” Annie questions.

Armin nods. “I think she liked me.” It sounds as much a question as it does an answer, but then he keeps going. “But I uh… fucked up.”

“Did she break up with you?” Annie asks, her voice taut.

Armin shakes his head a little too quickly. He instantly grimaces at his headache. “No. We never dated.”

Annie’s mouth pops open in surprise. “O-Oh,” she stammers, before, “Oh!” She says much louder, followed by a much softer, realizing, “Oh.”

Armin cocks a brow. “Uh, yeah, oh, I guess,” he chuckles awkwardly. “Anyways, I just kind of messed up.”

“But you love her?” Annie’s voice shrinks as she asks this, and right after she finds herself desperately thinking ‘ _ Please say no, please please  _ **_please_ ** _. _ ’

Upon hearing her, Armin gives her a look, so incredulous and shocked that Annie feels like she’s done something wrong. An apology instantly starts climbing up her throat because she thinks she fucked up and she just wants to apologize, but then Armin  _ laughs _ . Not like his laughs earlier that day, but genuinely—it’s tiny and breathy, but it’s light with humor. He finds Annie’s assumption  _ funny _ .

He’s laughing.

Annie smiles just upon hearing his sweet laughter, and she instantly wishes that she could record it, save it, and listen to it when she’s sad to bring her hopes back up.

“H-Her, and me-“ Armin interrupts himself with a snort, “no. I don’t love her,” he finally says.

Annie can’t help the instant relief that rolls through her upon hearing this. She exhales. Her shoulders are still tense. “Then, you-“

“I love someone else.”

Annie stiffens. The relief instantly dissipates and in its place comes reluctance. ‘ _ Fuck. _ ’

“Who?” Annie rasps out, gripping the steering wheel tighter as she swerves left.

Armin turns pink at her question and looks away, obviously not wanting to answer her question, and Annie has to ignore the pang of hurt that shoots through her heart at this.

“It doesn’t matter,” he finally says, shaking his head. “She’d never date me. Plus, I’m trying to fall out of love with her anyways,” he admits with a blush.

Annie swallows thickly. She swerves right. “Oh,” she squeaks, “you’re in  _ love _ ?”

Armin nods. “Yup. In love.”

Annie closes her eyes and exhales before snapping her eyes open to look at the road. Shit. She made a wrong turn. She makes a U-turn and circles back, her heart hammering in her chest as her body flood with heat.

Armin… is in love.

Sure, she should’ve expected this.

But he doesn’t love that other girl from the club, so maybe…

‘ _ Me? _ ’ comes Annie’s next, unbidden thought, a bit  _ too _ desperately. But she’s quick to shake it away, because even if Armin  _ did _ love her, he said that he’s falling out of love anyways. So either or, her chances for getting with Armin are close to nonexistent.

They’ll never be a thing.

Annie exhales a shaky breath and blinks away the tears that form in her eyes from that thought. She needs to accept this. She needs to, she needs to.

She grips the steering wheel so tight in which her knuckles have drained of color, and when she turns right, she realizes, with a strange lurch of her heart, that they’re already here at Armin’s apartment. She pulls up beside the building and watches through a haze of numbness and stale-heartache as Armin thanks her and climbs out of the passenger seat, although his movements are stiff because of his boner

Right as the door slams shut and Armin starts to walk away, Annie finally snaps back to reality and she finds her fingers scrambling for the power window buttons to her left and clicking them down. Slowly, the window on her right rolls down on the passenger seat side, and Annie’s mouth parts before she can stop it.

“Armin!”

The aforementioned male wheels around and turns to look at her, already halfway to the sidewalk and to his building.

“Yeah?”

Annie’s mouth moves uselessly, her brain fried and mind blank, but finally, after what feels like a century, she says,

“You’ll get over her.”

And then she realizes that she’s smiling, a bit too late, but she knows now that if she were to stop it would look weird, so she widens it. Armin's mouth pops open in surprise—astonishment is what it looks like, really—but then he gives her this toothy grin with his cheeks flushed bright red and Annie wants to run out of this car and throw herself at him.

“Thank you,” he finally replies, sounding almost… breathless when he says it. But then he raises his hand to offer her a small wave in parting, and Annie reciprocates his action, waving at his figure as he turns around and retreats back into his building.

It’s not until about ten minutes later—Armin is long gone in his apartment complex now—when Annie finally uncurls her fingers from the steering wheel, feeling the muscles in her fingers finally loosen as color fades back into her knuckles, and she leans her head against the wheel, and cries again.

“Armin,” she mutters, just as her voice cracks, “I wish you all the best… in falling out of love.”

* * *

Armin turns on the shower, listening to the  _ ssshhhhaaa _ of the water as it sprays down and hits the glass of the shower walls. He frowns down at the floor.

That was his last chance.

That’s how he wanted to find out if Annie loved him or not. He came up with the white idea while waiting for her.

He would tell Annie about his sad love life and, since Armin prides himself off of being able to read people and their expressions, that’s how he was going to figure out if Annie loves him. By her reaction.

But her reaction didn’t tell him anything.

She doesn’t love him.

Armin sighs and leans back against the wall, letting the water heat up before he gets in. 

Maybe he made a mistake. It was dark anyways, so maybe she  _ was _ blushing or doing something that he couldn’t catch because of the lack of lighting. Maybe Annie  _ does _ love him.

She has to…

Armin sighs, letting his blond brows pinch together in frustration as his head lolls back on his shoulder and lets his eyes drift shut.

‘ _ Stop it. Can’t you see? She doesn’t love you. _ ’ His eyelids flutter open slowly and he sighs. ‘ _ Don’t be stupid, Arlert. _ ’

When his eyes open, Armin steals a glance outside the bathroom window, and there, he sees a car out in the parking lot. The headlights and engine are on, and a blonde girl is in the driver’s seat. Armin frowns, becuase he knows for a fucking fact that Annie is the one out there and she’s been out there for a good twenty minutes now.

Finally, he shuts off the water and ties a robe around his bare body. He marches out of the bathroom, surging past Jean’s unconscious figure sprawled out on the couch next to a sleeping Marco resting on the armchair, and he slips on a pair of slides before he swings open the apartment door and dashes down the hall. He practically races down the stairs, heart hammering as he makes for the parking lot, and he exits the apartment complex and steps onto the sidewalk with sweat sticking to the back of his neck. He then hunkers over, putting his hands on his knees and lowering his head to the ground as he sucks in heavy breaths.

This is the only way he’ll be able to know.

He has to ask Annie  _ himself _ .

Because he  _ needs _ this. He  _ needs _ closure. He needs her to know, he needs to know how she feels.

He fucking needs to!

“Hey, Annie?” He calls out into the night, his head still lowered to the ground. “I have something to say.”

Slowly, he rises up to his full length, although his head remains lowered to the pavement below his feet. He steps forward into the parking lot and onto the gravel, gulping down his nerves with his heart hammering so loud in his ears as he parts his lips to speak.

“I,” he raises his head, only to be met with the sight of…

…a parking lot  _ without _ Annie or the car.

“…love you…” The sentence finishes before he can stop it. 

She must’ve driven off.

And now is when Armin realizes how stupid he is. Because he’s standing in the middle of the parking lot to his apartment complex, at 2 in the fucking morning, wearing nothing but a blue robe and slides, confessing to  _ nobody _ that he’s in love with them.

He lets out one of the most humorless, saddest sounding laughs at himself, and he has to cut it short to keep it from sounding even stranger than it already does.

He really is stupid.

Of course Annie doesn’t love him.

With a sigh, Armin slowly makes it back to his apartment. He makes it into the bathroom, kicks the shower faucet open, and then steps inside the shower. He lets the water spray over him, cooling his flushed skin, and he sighs and leans his head against the cool glass beside him. He swallows hard, images— _ memories  _ of Annie flashing through his mind, before…

…he cries.

  
  


Ten minutes later, he’s stepping out of the shower and wrapping a towel around the lower half of his body, and when he stares at his reflection he sees red blemishes dotting his neck.

He frowns and turns bright red.

So  _ that’s  _ what Annie was talking about in the car.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow. this is the quickest I’ve ever written a chapter I think lol.  
> this chapter wasn’t as... angsty as the last one, but the fact that both Annie _and_ Armin cries honestly makes me hurt.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> welcome to trope train; first stop, cliche city, and right after that there's trite city. all aboard trope train, please buckle your seatbelts, because you're in for a hell of a ride >:)

The days felt longer. The nights felt shorter. Armin couldn’t get enough sleep.

On day 5 of Spring break, Annie’s birthday happens to fall on that exact same day. When Armin awakes from his _very_ short rest, there’s a vague thought of reminder in his head, nagging and niggling him until he finally grabs his phone and has the date glaring right back at him on his bright screen.

_Friday, March 22_

When he reads the date, Armin sighs and sets his phone down. He should get Annie a gift, send her a birthday text—just do _something_ to let her know that he acknowledges today as the day she was born 23 years ago. But instead he finds himself moping, as he has been doing for, so far, the entirety of his spring break.

Because ever since that night last week on Friday, when Armin had let Brielle take him back to her place only to chicken out last minute and beckon Annie for a ride home, Armin has been pushing through the days feeling unhappy… unrested… 

…unfeeling.

He lives through the days unfeelingly, stitching his sorry self together with a needle of thread made of false thoughts of reassurances to himself. _This is just temporary. You’ll get over her soon._

But fucking _when_?

In all honesty, Armin never exactly realized how much Annie meant to him until he ended up having to force any thoughts of her away lest he suffer from longing for the impossible. He didn’t realize how, when he felt like shit during a day when he had classes at 7am all the way until the afternoon, he’d always manage to brighten up at the thought of maybe being able to have lunch with Annie. She occupies his mind so much, it’s almost hilarious. She means _everything_ to him.

But now, he has to let his feelings for her go.

Because now he’s starting to _hate_ suffering like this.

He hasn’t even been sleeping well. No matter how exhausted Armin is, he always manages to awake only 3 hours later because of _her_.

Err, more like… because of his _dreams_. 

Armin is nice—kind, one might say. He’s a good person who has good dreams about doing good things. But these dreams… they’re _far_ from good.

They’re good in the _moment_ , but—they’re not _fucking_ _good_.

Because afterwards, he’ll wake up from these not-good dreams and have to do things that may or may not entail him having to (putting in frankly) jerk off in his bed. Or in his shower. Or wherever the fuck he ends up.

But, to wrap it all up, Armin doesn’t feel nice at _all_.

In fact, he can’t feel _anything_.

He feels numb.

He knows that he may not have a way to get rid of the pain completely, _but_ he has managed to discover a coping mechanism that helps to a… certain extent. And yeah, it’s shitty and disrupting and overall just annoying, but it’s the only thing that’s been reminding Armin that he’s still alive and that he’s still here.

“Oh my god, would you make it _stop_?!”

Armin lifts his head from where he lays on his bed, his unseeing blue eyes shifting from staring up at the ceiling to his bedroom door which swings open and reveals Jean on the other side. His roommate looks pissed when he glares at the speakers atop Armin’s dresser that blast a truly terrible soundtrack as it swings into its tenth repetition of the day.

“Jesus, man,” Jean groans, stalking over to the speaker and shutting it off. Armin gives him a look of utter distraught, but upon realizing that he’d need to put in actual effort to get out of bed to turn the speaker back on, he flops down onto his back and heaves out a sigh. “Why do you keep playing this shit playlist? Are you doing alright?” The latter inquiry sounds both concerned and annoyed. 

Armin frowns. “No,” he replies bluntly, turning onto his side so that his blue eyes can gaze out the window. Everything past the panes is a blur to him from the fogged up glass. “I’m not,” he grumbles out.

Jean frowns at Armin, truly sympathetic about the state his roommate has found himself in—trapped in a constant feeling of dismay and insatiable yearning for the unachievable. Usually, Armin is bubbly and friendly, but it’s as though all of his glow has been sucked right out of him. Inevitably, it leaves Jean feeling strange too, and it has him missing the days he’d wake up to a joyful Armin eating scrambled eggs and reading a book on the living room couch.

“Alright,” Jean sighs, crossing his arms over his chest, speaking in a tone with finality, “get ready.”

“For what?” Armin doesn’t bother looking at Jean when he asks this.

“A party.”

Armin scowls and looks up to glare at Jean, bracing himself on his elbows to face him completely. “No,” he instantly says, “I’m not going to another… clubbing thing with you. Last time was shitty,” he sighs.

Jean’s hands instantly fly up in surrender. “Whoa, not a _club_ ,” he quickly clarifies, “a party.”

Armin's glare doesn’t relent, it only deepens. “And why should I go to a party?”

“Because your friends will be there,” Jean says, before quickly shaking his head to correct himself. “Er, well, _a_ friend, I mean.”

Armin's eyes widened a smidge. _Does he mean..?_

“Who?”

“Annie.”

Armin swallows hard. _He_ **_does_** _mean._

“W-Wait,” Annie begins quickly, “why would Annie beat one of your parties?”

“It’s not mine,” Jean shoots back, “it’s hers. Well, it’s a party for _her_. One of her roommates wanted to plan a party for her birthday since she’s been…” His voice trails off and he stares at Armin’s… less than ideal appearance and sighs. “Well, she’s kinda been like you.”

Armin furrows his brow. “Her roommate? You know Mina and Hitch?”

“Ah, no, but I know Marlo, who’s Hitch’s boyfriend, and things happened and I somehow got invited. Hitch told me to take you with me.”

Armin nods slowly, his expression relaxing and turning thoughtful with a small raise of his brows. He wonders for a minute, debating whether he should go or not and running through his presumptions for what may transpire if he were to go to the party, and, despite the fact that his heart pounds with great expectancy to see Annie again, he finds himself leaning towards rejecting Jean’s offer.

Not that he doesn’t want to see Annie though! Actually, it’s the total opposite—God, what he would give to just see her face again. But it’s just that… he isn’t sure if this will help him.

Because Annie is technically the source of his dismay, isn’t it? Because he sustains unreciprocated feelings is the reason why he feels so desperate and numb. So he’s not exactly sure if seeing Annie right now would be a wise decision.

“I…” he begins slowly, ready to say _I can’t go_ , but then his words jam in his throat as he tries to force them out. Because now the image of Annie is invading his thoughts again, making him go weak in the knees despite the fact that he’s sitting down, and, _fuck_ , he’s just so desperate right now so God help him-

Armin sighs.

_Fuck it._

So he parts his lips and says, “sure, I’ll go,” and right as he says this, all his resolve comes crashing down.

Jean smiles a bit. “Alright, we’re leaving at 3.” He turns around and makes for the door, but just before he closes it he spins around and faces Armin with a smirk. “Oh, and bring your swimming trunks,” he tacks on quickly, and before he can even see Armin's eyes pop open in surprise, Jean closes the door behind him and leaves.

* * *

“Hitch, I don’t really think you understand that I don’t dress like you.”

“Oh, come on! You look cute, Annie!”

“I do _not_ look cute in this.”

“You didn’t have any other swimsuits, what else was I supposed to do?”

Annie sighs and turns her scarlet face away from the body sized mirror in Hitch’s room, away from her reflection. Hitch comes up from behind her, grinning and placing her hands on Annie’s shoulders with a smug grin.

“You look fine,” Hitch drawls reassuringly.

Annie huffs. “I beg to differ.”

She steals one glance back at the girl staring back at her in the mirror with her blonde hair falling loosely to her shoulders, clad in a swimsuit that Hitch had given her. It’s tight, red, and strappy as it wraps around her body with a gold zipper on the front-half of the swimsuit, holding the top part together. Immediately, Annie looks away and shifts uncomfortably where she stands as Hitch removes her hands from Annie’s shoulders and walks to the other side of her room.

“Why did you even plan this party without telling me?” Annie asks, fully spinning around so that her back is facing the mirror, although now she feels as red as her swimsuit.

“It was going to be a surprise, but then I realized that I needed you in a swimsuit for it so I told you.” Hitch grabs her lip gloss and plasters it onto her lips, popping them once after she’s finished and admiring the finished product on her mouth in her hand mirror. “But you should know the reason why, it’s your birthday,” she adds on.

Annie frowns. “I didn’t know you cared.”

Hitch shrugs. “Is there a reason not to?” She flips closed her hand mirror and slips it into her purse. “I’ll go get Mina and see if she’s ready. Come outside when you’re done.”

When she leaves the room, closing the door behind her, Annie spins around again and regards her reflection once more. She had been wearing a dark cardigan over her swim wear, but now she slowly peels it off and views her entire body, and despite it being her own figure, she still finds herself reddening.

Sure, there are the slight scars along her skin and faint stretch marks that poke out from the fabric of the swimsuit, curving around her ass, but Annie regards them normally without a change in expression. She feels strange wearing this swimsuit—a sense of pride growing in her stomach—and she realizes, a few minutes later, that what she feels is…

…cute? No, too innocent. Hot? Uhm, not exactly.

“ _Sexy,_ ” she muses quietly.

 _This_ is what it feels like to feel sexy; to regard her imperfections and still feel proud.

“Annie, are you finished in there?”

Annie comes to and shakes her head. “Uh, yeah. Give me a minute!” She turns around and grabs a hair tie off the dresser to pull her hair back into a classic messy bun, slipping on some shorts and a loose shirt before she leaves Hitch’s room. There, by the entryway, stand Mina and Hitch, putting on their footwear as they wait for her. Annie wastes to no time and joins them to put on her own sandals by the door.

“Okay, ready?” Hitch asks, standing up from where she was bent over and making for the door. Mina nods slowly.

“Ready,” Mina replies with a smile.

There three then leave their dorm and make it to Hitch’s car out in the parking lot. Despite being told that there was this whole party planned for her birthday without her knowledge, Annie is still clueless on certain details, such as who the fuck is even going and _where_ they’re going. In reality, that’s the only reason why she was so dismissing when Mina had told her that they were going to a pool party for her birthday, but then both her dorm mates had managed to sway her into going in spite of her protests, and now she finds herself in the backseat heading to that very party.

“Ah, actually, I think your boyfriend will be there, Annie.” Annie blanches and feels herself tense. “ _What?_ ”

“Your boyfriend,” Hitch says again casually. “That brunette who swung by last week; I told her about the party and asked who to invite and she said Armin.”

“Sasha?” Annie asks for clarification, and to that, Hitch nods. “Sasha said that Armin is my boyfriend?”

“No, but we’re just assuming so,” Hitch replies with a shrug. “He is literally, like, one of the _only_ people I’ve ever seen you interact with. And you guys used to call each other a lot, and you used to talk about him a lot, so it wasn’t hard to-“

“We aren’t dating.” Annie says this so sternly, so defensively, in which it has even _her_ slightly surprised by her own tone. She sees Mina flinch at her tone, but then the girl smiles awkwardly and shakes her head.

“W-Well, we only _assumed_ so, but it’s alright if you guys aren’t,” she says gently. Already, her soft tone has a bit of Annie’s tension relieving, but there’s still a muscle that just won’t relieve because of the tension still lingering in her mind.

Hitch snickers a bit. “You _sure_ you aren’t dating?” She asks.

“ _Yes_ , I’m _sure,_ ” Annie bites back.

Hitch turns around to look at her when they approach a stop sign, lowering her head which has her sunglasses dipping lower down her nose so that her brown eyes can peek out. Her gaze makes Annie’s face warm from the sudden intensity to it. But she stares at Annie for no longer than a few seconds before she shrugs, relenting her firm stare and letting her eyes drift back to the road.

“Alright, if you say so,” she murmurs, pressing on the gas pedal and driving forward. A car zooms by just as their vehicle starts to roll forward, and Hitch stomps down on the brakes and honks angrily at the car.

“Oi! What the hell, man?!” She cries out in road-rage, rolling down her window to hold her hand out and flip the driver the bird.

Mina giggles. “Now now,” she begins, “don’t do anything stupid.”

Hitch retorts with something that doesn’t process in Annie’s mind, and the rest of her roommates’ conversation is lost to her as it just now dawns on her that Armin will be there. Meaning that he’ll be seeing Annie in this swimwear. Meaning that she may see _him_ in swimwear. Meaning that she’ll _see_ him. Meaning that she’ll most likely talk to him. Meaning that he’ll talk to her. Meaning that…

Crap.

What if her feelings resurface?

She’s been doing a good job of locking her thoughts of Armin out for the past week, and despite what she witnessed last Friday, she’s… actually been doing alright. No, she’s not completely over him—she still manages to find herself waking from dreams of him that leave her uncomfortably wet with her stomach churning—but she likes to believe that she’s doing better. Just a few more days and maybe she’ll be able to face him again.

Just a few more days… and she won’t feel like this anymore.

Annie gulps.

She isn’t ready.

She isn’t fucking ready to see him.

As Hitch and Mina continue to speak, Annie zones off—she drifts away, mentally, thinking of a time that could be. Thinking of a time where she doesn’t need to isolate herself from Armin—of a time when they’re friends and they’re happy. Of a good time.

A time that isn’t _now_.

Annie’s mind slowly comes back to reality just as the sound of two car doors slamming shut fills her ears. She blinks, realizing that she’s in the car alone, and when she looks outside a window she can see that Mina and Hitch have just climbed out of the car. Realizing that they’ve arrived at their destination, Annie scrambles out as well, joining them outside, and her eyes drift back to the house behind her.

It’s a wide one-story, and by just looking through the large windows, Annie can tell that it’s nicely decorated. As she slowly follows Hitch and Mina to the door, she can see the two cars in the driveway, and then there’s one parked on the sidewalk right in front of the house. Observing this has Annie worrying about who might be at this party and if she’ll even _know_ who will be here.

“Hey, Hitch?” Annie asks, watching Hitch open the unlocked door and step inside the house. “Who’s going to be there?”

Hitch shrugs as she steps inside. “Eh, you’ll see when you get there,” she says, guiding her and Mina to the backyard sliding door. She slides the door open and steps outside, and although Annie can hear a chorus _hey_ ’s erupt from the outside, her feet remain glued to the wooden flooring when she realizes that she doesn’t recognize _any_ of the voices. But then Mina steps behind Annie and shoves her outside, forcing her into the backyard.

There, she sees a grill, a large pool in the center of the concrete, and a few lounge chairs scattered about—the space being occupied by a number of people, some of whose faces Annie thankfully recognizes.

“And the birthday girl arrives!” A familiar feminine voice calls, and Annie can feel her apprehension roll off her shoulders when she turns to face the speaker to see none other than Sasha Braus approaching her, a gift bag in her hand. The brunette grins, her hair already wet and sticking to her face, telling Annie that she must’ve already taken a dip in the pool, and she throws an arm around Annie's shoulder

“Happy birthday,” she says, holding up the tiny gift bag and handing it to Annie, “Connie and I both pitched in.”

Annie smiles thankfully. “Thank you,” she says, grabbing the bag.

“Hey,” comes another, thankfully familiar voice, and Annie turns to see Bertholdt approaching her. Behind him is Renier, grinning with his arms crossed as he stares at Annie.

Annie smiles at her two friends, shrugging Sasha off her shoulder to approach them. 

“Long time no see,” Reiner says.

Annie nods in agreement. “It’s been a while.” Just barely a month, to be exact.

She greets everyone else, learning the names of the people who she doesn’t know—Marco and Marlo, Armin’s roommate’s friend and Hitch’s boyfriend—and by the time she’s greeted everyone in the area, she’s generally thankful that most of the people there are those of which that she knows. Connie and Sasha jump into the pool, splashing Annie, and the girl jumps in surprise before backing away from the edge of the pool as the other two people resurface.

Just as she’s about to mirthfully chide them for getting her wet, Reiner jumps in right after, only getting Annie even more wet, and she opens her mouth in preparation for another chastising only to hear Hitch whoop as she strips down to her bikini and jumps in right after.

She decides to give up trying to speak.

Annie takes a seat on the lounge chair beside the pool, and despite her aforementioned concerns about seeing Armin, she finds her eyes instinctually searching the area for that familiar head of blond hair. When she fails to spot him, she feels disappointed in spite of herself.

Sasha climbs out of the pool, and Annie leans forward in her seat, closer to the brunette, to whisper, “where’s Armin?”

Sasha turns to Annie, surprised by her voice, but then she notices that Annie’s blue eyes are only frantically searching the area around them. Upon noticing this, Sasha knows that Annie’s feelings for Armin haven’t disappeared yet. “He went to the store with his roommate,” she quickly says. “Drinks,” she adds.

Annie nods slowly and leans back. She can feel Sasha’s gaze linger on her, but really, her attention is still on searching for Armin. She doesn’t even know _why_ she’s so desperate to see him—she _knows_ it’ll only lead to her own heartache—but… who knows? Maybe she’s a masochist?

“Ah shit,” she hears, and Annie turns to see Hitch searching through the bag she brought and frowning, “I forgot our towels in the car. Annie, can you go get them?”

Annie swallows. She needs a distraction anyways. “Sure.”

She rises to her feet, walking towards the front sliding door and grabbing the car keys from Hitch on her way out before she slips inside the home and exits through the front door. There, as she’s walking down the driveway, she spots a familiar stone gray car rolling down the street, and with a stutter of her heart behind her ribs, she identifies the two figures in the front seat as Armin and his roommate (she’s only able to recognize his roommate because she’s been introduced to him once).

The car pulls up beside Hitch’s car, and Annie’s eyes fly wide as the engine dies and the two front doors swing open, revealing the blond whom she had been searching for prior. He steps out, his blue button-down unbuttoned and uncovering his light skin, and Annie has to quickly look away lest the thought of marking Armin’s chest with her mouth assault her mind.

“You think Annie and the other girls already arrived?” His roommate asks, taking out a grocery bag from the backseat.

Armin shrugs. “Not sure. Probably.”

They both start to walk forward and Annie stiffens. Blue eyes frantically search the scene around them before Annie ducks behind a bunch of shrubs as Armin and Jean walk to the front door, unnoticing her.

“So,” Jean begins slowly, “you uh… ever got over that girl?”

Annie swallows and feels her heart sink. Girl. The word echoed in her head tauntingly. 

“Ah, no,” comes Armin’s almost exasperated response. “But, let’s just… not think about it right now. I’m at this party to have fun, remember?”

Annie peeks past the shrubs to watch as Armin and Jean climb to steps to the porch. She sees Jean nod slowly before saying, “I know,” and right after that, they two slip inside the house.

She isn’t sure how much it takes before her senses come back to her and she looks down at the dirt below her feet, reminding herself that the earth is _still_ _here_.

Because just now, Armin said that he isn’t over a girl.

Who?

…

_Who?_

Annie sighs and bunches her hand into a fist on the dirt, slamming it down on the earth once as her heart lurches.

Who?

_Who?_

_**Who** is Armin in love with? _

  
  


Eventually, she finds herself back in the backyard. She managed to grab their forgotten towels from Hitch’s car and managed to make it back into the backyard, and now, she settles down into a lounge chair and frowns. Her eyes follow Armin across the backyard as he peels off his shirt, and Annie’s breath hitches in her throat as she watches his entire torso become _exposed_. He says something to Jean that Annie doesn’t pay attention to before stepping into the water, lowering himself down on the ladder before dumping himself completely into the deep-end.

Maybe it’s an eternity before he resurfaces—maybe it’s a few seconds—but when he _does_ , his hair is wet and sticking to his face and his skin is absolutely _glistening_.

And Annie swallows.

She _wants_ that.

Slowly, Annie comes back to reality when Armin swims across the pool, resting in the corner as Jean jumps in. She realizes, with strange nervousness, that _she’s_ the only one who hasn’t gotten in the pool yet. And, judging by the expectant looks everyone gives her, _they_ seem to realize it too.

“You’re not getting in?” Connie asks from the pool.

Annie swallows. “I am,” she says slowly.

Suddenly aware of all the eyes on her, Annie rises off the lounge chair and slowly slips her shorts off. Fortunately, everyone’s attention seems to be divided between, not just her, but other things, such as speaking with one another and just generally swimming around in the pool, something else, so Annie doesn’t have to deal with the strange uncomforting thought of feeling as though she’s basically stripping in front of her friends (well, _most_ of them are her friends). When her shorts and shirt are finally off and she’s in nothing but her bikini, she notices the blue eyes staring at her in the pool.

First, she vaguely noticed them in her peripheral vision, and her first thought is, _eh, that’s weird_ , but then she remembers that there is only _one_ person who’s blue eyes have ever ogled at her like that before which has her head snapping right only to have blue eyes lock with another set of blue.

They stare for a long time—Armin grows redder each second, and Annie shifts uncomfortably every two—but then a voice cuts into their… _whatever_ , and Annie’s eyes flees first.

“ _Uwahh_! I forgot to put on sunscreen!”

Annie turns and watches Mina scramble out of the pool, marking wet footprints across the pavement as she walks over to her bag next to Hitch’s. She fishes out a sunscreen bottle and just as she’s about to pop the cap open, her eyes widen as though she’s remembering something and she turns to Annie.

“Annie, didn’t you say you needed some?” Mina asks, holding up the bottle as though it’s on display.

Annie nods slowly, still aware of Armin’s lingering gaze on her back as she stalks towards Mina and lets the girl squeeze out a generous amount of sunscreen onto her hand. Annie makes sure her back is turned to the pool as she applies the layer of sunscreen onto her exposed skin, but as she twists to get the back of her thighs where the underside of her ass is, she looks over to see Armin staring at her almost as though she’s _captivated_ him.

She immediately looks away.

 _Fuck_.

Why did she think coming to this party would be a good idea?

She should’ve jumped out the car window the moment Hitch mentioned that Armin would be here.

She shouldn’t _be_ here.

She’s not ready for _this_. 

“Annie?”

She recovers and looks over to Mina as she steps back into the pool.

“Join us?” Mina asks.

Annie nods slowly, wiping the remnants of sunscreen on her fingers off on the back of her one-piece. She makes sure to _not_ look over at Armin as she settles into the pool, refraining from hissing at the coldness to the water as she sinks in. She lowers herself in which only the top half of her face is visible and can only _hope_ that nothing regrettable will happen today. 

“Hey!” Sasha suddenly announces, as though she’s just remembering something. “Connie and I brought drinks!”

Annie instantly grimaces, watching Sasha climb out of the pool and grab a bottle of, of course; alcohol, grinning all the whilst.

“Anyone up for shots?” She suggests.

A chorus of a myriad of phrases in agreement ring out and Annie can only frown as she watches Marlo, the house owner, supposedly, climb out of the pool and disappear into the house. When he returns, he comes bearing shot glasses, and soon enough Annie is glaring down at brown liquid in a shot glass between her fingers.

“Cheers!”

The glasses raise and Annie begrudgingly does the same, pouring the stinging whiskey down her throat and scrunching her nose up right after in distaste, shaking her head as her nose slightly burns.

The sound around them repopulates with voices and Annie can physically _feel_ the joy seeping into the atmosphere. She feels mainly jealous that she doesn’t feel the same amount of joy, and she can only hope—only _fucking_ _hope_ —that nothing terrible will happen today (considering the fact that there’s _alcohol_ involved).

When she looks over to Armin, his eyes quickly dart away as though he had been ogling at her, and Annie only frowns as her heart stutters behind her ribcage.

But boy, if only she knew what would transpire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright so with everything that’s been happening in the world, I’ve decided to take a tiny break from writing. I live in North America, and I’m doing my best to support the BLM movement by signing petitions and so forth, but I don’t think I have time to write as much anymore. 
> 
> I’m not saying that I’m never going to write again, I’m just saying that things in the US are hectic right now and I think it’d be better if I contributed more to the movement than write. I’m still going to write and update my book(s), but they’ll be less frequent. Maybe updates will come weekly as they have been, maybe they’ll come monthly. I honestly don’t even know myself. But please just needs patient with me.
> 
> Also, if you live in the US, please, and I _cannot_ stress this enough, **_please_** help contribute. A lot of people are struggling right now, and if you can’t go to protests, please at least sign petitions and donate any money if you can. It’s for a better future.
> 
> Thank you, everyone, for your understanding.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *insert shitty joke here about how I haven't updated in a month*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uhm... nsfw warning at the end??? It's nothing _that_ bad though, compared to what I'm going to write in chapter-  
> okay let me shut up before I spoil my own fucking fanfic
> 
> but if you're uncomfortable with nsfw scenes, just skip from "He doesn't bother to flick on the light" to "A feeling of dread"

A copious amount of shots later and now there’s pop music playing through a speaker, a drunken Sasha and Hitch trying to encourage Mina to _“let loose girl,”_ and, _“come dance with us!”_ , and Armin can see that Annie is drunk. Marlo had brought out a drink dispenser and filled it with lemonade, which Armin now gets a drink from, and he finds himself observing Annie with a smile.

Luckily, today isn’t like the camping trip—now, thankfully, she knows her limits, as she had refused to take more than five shots—so she isn’t wasted. She can still stand, still swim, and beneficially, now, from what Armin can observe, she’s _happy_.

He noticed it first on their camping trip, the first time he had ever seen alcohol enter Annie’s system since high school, when she was like this. No, she isn’t exactly smiling and laughing like Sasha is, but Armin can still tell that she’s happy. He’s always been like this—a good observer—and here is when it really comes in handy.

As he steps into the pool after drinking his lemonade, he watches as Annie climbs out of the pool, her posture relaxed and hips swaying slightly to the tune and voice lightly humming along to the music. She walks two lounge chairs over to Mina’s bag go rummage through it before fishing out the bottle of sunscreen to reapply another layer onto her skin, and Armin catches himself watching the sway of her hips as she moves. He instantly sinks lower into the pool, eyes narrowing to zero-in on Annie’s toned figure, wishing he could savor the taste of her wet skin against his lips by pressing endless kisses against her muscled joints.

And then Armin sighs. He doesn’t know why he always ends up like this around Annie—always keeping his eyes on her and shit—and he doesn’t know why today feels especially different. Maybe it’s because of her birthday. Maybe it’s her swimsuit. Maybe it’s because her skin sparkles under the light of the sun.

He quickly splashes the chlorinated water onto his water and shakes his head, sinking deeper into the water so that only his eyes are visible. And he continues watching her, attention _rapt_ , as she walks back over to the pool and bends down at the edge to talk to Bertholdt and Reiner. An ill-placed pang of jealousy shoots through Armin, and he finds himself thinking _she’s mine_ , before he forcefully reminds himself that, no, in fact, she _isn’t_ his.

And then he’s staring at the zipper down her swimsuit, and he wonders if it’s functional—wonders about what he would see if he were to corner her behind the shed, where none of their friends are looking, and unzip her swimwear. Would her skin be scarred? Most likely so—he finds it unrealistic that her skin, or anyone’s skin for that matter, would be flawless—but he’d love her either way. He’d trace his fingers over the scars and stretch marks on her body and when she’d blush and look away, embarrassed, he’d reassure her and say _you’re beautiful, I love you_ , before kissing any insecurities away.

He wants to be there for her.

He _wants_ her.

He’s a love-struck idiot and he knows it.

Suddenly, there’s a sharp yelp dragging Armin back to reality, and he quickly looks over to see Sasha push Annie into the pool. There’s a splash, followed by Sasha’s howling laughter as Annie resurfaces. Her hair has slipped out of her bun, and now it messily drapes down her head in wet, flaxen clumps.

“Sasha!” Annie hisses at the brunette. The latter only laughs harder, and soon everyone else is laughing too.

Armin snorts a bit as well, because Annie looks ridiculously adorable with the pout that plays on her lips.

“That wasn’t cool, Sasha.”

Armin is surprised to find that Reiner is the one who spoke, and he looks genuinely upset as he approaches Annie with an outstretched arm.

“Here, I’ll help you out,” the burly male says. 

Another misplaced feeling of jealousy shoots through Armin as he watches Reiner dip lower into the pool and wrap his arms around Annie’s waist. Armin knows that Reiner and Annie’s relationship is a like-hate friendship, as the aforementioned female had chosen to word it, since they only became friends in high school after she and Armin had fallen-out. Therefore, he _knows_ that he shouldn’t feel this jealous about the fact that Reiner has his arms around her waist as he lifts her up to help her get out of the pool, only to drag her back down and to have Annie shriek in response and-

 _Oh_.

Blue eyes widen from their glare when Armin realizes, with amusement, that he isn’t helping her out at all.

“H-Hey! Reiner!” Annie cries out vainly as Reiner laughs mischievously, raising her higher before dumping her back in, backward and head first, crying out “ _German Suplex!”_

Armin stares wide-eyed as Annie resurfaces again, furious and sputtering, and he can’t help the tiny grin that tugs on his lips. Sure, what Reiner did was ill-spirited, but as much as it is mean, it’s also _very_ entertaining. Reiner laughs and extends his hand, offering his outstretched limb to Annie to _‘help her out again’_ (heavy air quotes), but the blonde simply scoffs and looks away.

“Asshole,” she murmurs, swimming over to the corner of the pool, away from the rest of their friends who continue to snicker. Armin finds himself instinctively joining her, and he realizes, a little too late, when he sits down beside her on the steps, how close they are. If he were to just move his finger a bit… he might… just… feel hers.

Armin gasps and draws his hands back the minute the tips of their fingers brush together. 

_Stop it, **stop it**. Don’t be stupid, Arlert._

“So I see you got Reiner’s birthday gift,” he begins slowly, mirth laden in his tone.

Annie turns to him and frowns, but she cocks a confused brow nonetheless. “What?”

“Dunking you in the water,” Armin replies with a cheeky smirk. “That’s your gift, right?”

Annie gives him a certain look, and Armin can practically _see_ the gears turning in her head as her eyes slowly widen upon realizing that what Armin said was very clearly a _joke_. He can see the realization flash in her eyes, and her mouth pops open in genuine surprise before her lip quirks upward, almost a smile. And then she exhales sharply through her nose—it could be interpreted as her expressing frustration, but Armin knows that she’s amused.

“Oh yeah?” She begins slowly. “I don’t see my gift from you,” she says coyly.

Armin stiffens at the mention of a gift, but then he forces out a chuckle that he can only hope sounds normal, his voice gravelly when he says, “it’s a surprise.”

Annie frowns slightly. Armin is glad that, judging by the joy in her eyes, she isn’t _actually_ disturbed.

“That’s the point of a gift,” she murmurs petulantly, “it’s _supposed_ to be a surprise.”

Armin lets out another laugh, a bit louder and more hearty. “Exactly, you just proved my point. So looks like you’ll have to wait.”

Annie's mouth pops open, “w-wait! That’s not what I meant when I said that-“ But it’s too late—Armin has already pushed off the steps and started swim away, laughing.

Annie chases after him, and Armin only laughs as he swims over to where Connie and Sasha have begun to have another one of their splash fights. They find themselves in the crossfire and Annie bites out, “hey!” upon getting splashed by Sasha, and Armin feels a weird sense of deja vu come over him as he watches Annie splash Sasha right back.

 _Where have I seen a scene like this before?_ he wonders before he thinks, _ah, our camping trip_ , as the memory of them jumping into the reservoir pops into his mind.

He’s rooted back to reality when a splash comes at him from behind, drenching his upper body and making his hair heavy, and Armin turns to watch Connie snicker at him. Armin smirks, eyes narrowing competitively as he attempts to send a wave of water in Connie’s direction, but the latter simply laughs as he dodges, swimming away and behind Annie.

“Connie— _agh!_ ” The girl cries out when Connie’s hands fly to her shoulders and shove her into an unsuspecting Armin. Both of them trip into the deep-end and fall underwater, and suddenly Armin becomes _very aware_ of the fact that Annie’s body is pressed impossibly close to his; the only thing separating them from actual bare, skin-to-skin contact is her thin, oh-so-very _fucking_ thin swimsuit.

His mind goes blank as his eyes pop open, stinging under the cold and chlorinated water, and he watches as Annie turns as red as her swimsuit only for him to do the same. Her skin feels smooth—strangely smooth with the water surrounding them, putting up resistance between their movements, and it’s only a few seconds before they resurface, gasping for air and both impossibly red.

Connie and Hitch double over in uncontrollable laughter, and Armin can’t help but notice that Sasha looks more concerned than amused. He simply dismisses her concern as worry about the water that must’ve rushed into their ears and nose and turns to Connie with a glare that holds no real disdain to it.

“Prepare to meet your doom!” He announces, and he and Annie exchange one knowing look before nodding in unison, creating a big wave that comes down on Connie before he can swim away. The wave is so large in which it has him pushed underwater, but he resurfaces in a matter of seconds and gives Armin one, last challenging glare.

And then, Sasha, with a big grin, announces, “chicken fight!”

Armin watches, bug-eyed, as Connie smirks, sinking lowering into the water for Sasha to climb onto his shoulders. Hitch seems to notice what’s about to ensue because she instantly says, “I want in!”, pulling her boyfriend with her to the pool and stepping in with him. Marlo helps Hitch get onto his shoulders and the four of them turn to Annie and Armin expectantly, and Armin feels himself turn bright red when he and Annie look at each other.

They both seem to know how this will go down.

Annie will have to get on Armin’s shoulders… 

In all honesty, _neither_ of them are in favor of seeing how that would play out.

“M-Mina,” Armin begins desperately, his eyes flickering to Annie’s roommate who sits on a lounge chair, snacking on some potato chips. “You want to play?” His voice sounds rough and unusually gravelly.

But Mina simply smiles and shakes her head, dismissing his offer with a wave of her hand. “No, I’m fine. You go ahead.”

Armin can feel the growing unease stirring in his stomach when his eyes then frantically dart around the backyard, only to realize that Jean and Marco don’t seem like they want to move from where they sit by Mina, and Reiner and Bertholdt are just… no longer present.

He hadn’t even noticed they left.

“Fight me, coward!” Sasha announces, followed by a laugh—Connie’s laugh.

Again, Armin looks around the space, unusually reluctant, but then there’s a gentle hand on his shoulder, and when Armin turns he sees Annie staring at him, cheeks red and expression uncertain. But she doesn’t voice even the tiniest bit of her uncertainty—she simply gives him a shrug that says, _why not?_

And with an acquiescing sigh, Armin gives in. 

He sinks lower into the pool and helps Annie climb onto his back, and from there she shifts upward with Armin placing his hands on her thighs to steady her when she’s sitting atop his shoulders. Annie feels herself soar above the water as Armin rises up, and she can only hope that he can’t feel the sudden throbbing between her thighs behind his head.

Sasha gives her a challenging grin as the chicken fight ensues, though Annie’s attention is divided between Armin’s (perfect) hands on her legs draping over his chest and the fight to actually try to win. She feels her heart thud harder with each passing second before it’s hammering, loud and clear in her ears, and she’s just barely able to hear Hitch’s repartee before she joins the game.

The minute their third party joins, she manages to push Sasha off of Connie’s back. The brunette yelps when she dunks into the water and everyone laughs, excluding Annie, who feels like she’s between two worlds—battling two wars simultaneously; the war of her slowly yet surely climbing libido that sends her heat between her legs clenching together with desire, and the war of the chicken fight going on around her.

Of course, she _has_ imagined a few scenarios of her and Armin being in situations similar to this before with her thighs around his head, although they did entail her sitting the other way…

 _Behave!_ she chides herself, willing the blood that surges through her body to avoid her face.

With a sharp shove forward, Hitch attempts to throw Annie off her balance, and she does, for a second. The blonde wobbles, screeching before her body teeters backward. Armin’s hands grab onto her knees before she topples over, squeezing tightly at the joint and leaving a trail of heat in their wake as they had run up along her shins.

Annie bites back a moan at his touch and chokes out her thanks, removing her hands to where they had grabbed onto his head in a tight death grip. She balances her center of gravity, settling back solidly, and Armin’s head pitches backward to peer up at her, blond hair sweeping across his forehead, and Annie thinks, _It’s unfair how dreamlike he looks._

“You good up there?” He asks.

Annie nods. “Peachy,” she murmurs, face flushing bright red even as Armin turns away.

“Don’t think you’re getting away so easily!” Hitch reprimands, her hands flying out to attack Annie again. The blonde ducks and nearly loses her balance again, but Armin’s hands grip her knees tighter again. Apparently, this only makes her situation worse—an unbidden whimper escapes her lips, saying _more more more_ , but Armin must mistake it for pain because his hands immediately slip away from her knees, almost apologetically.

There are only a few seconds between Hitch’s first and next attack because before Annie can bring herself back to reality, Hitch’s hands are grabbing at hers again, pushing her. Blonde brows pinch together in Annie’s struggle to stay upright before one final push is given which finally sends her toppling off of Armin’s shoulders with a yelp.

Coldwater slides up her body when she’s fully emersed and she can still feel Armin’s touch lingering on her legs. Her mind reels with inebriation and bliss before there’s a hand on hers, pulling her above water, and reality slowly fades back into focus.

She blinks and coughs—how long was she underwater? Staring at her is everyone around her, looking genuinely concerned, and Hitch almost terrified as she climbs off of Marlo’s shoulders.

“Annie? _Ohmydays_ , why didn’t you come back up? Are you alive?” Hitch frantically asks, her sentences running quick.

“Uhh, I-I’m fine,” she stutters with a sniff, although her voice slightly wavers with uncertainty.

The expressions on everyone’s faces show that they don’t believe her, and Annie can only feel a growing tension slowly make the atmosphere grow thick. She shifts uncomfortably underneath everyone’s concerned gazes, face growing warm in embarrassment, before, with a clear of her throat, Sasha suggests, “Hey, you know what, we’re all a bit tipsy, we probably shouldn’t be swimming as much. Let’s go inside.”

“Yeah, let’s do that,” Connie says, although his voice sounds a bit far away.

Sasha is the first to climb out of the pool, followed by Marlo, and Annie is one of the last people to get out of the water. She feels eyes on her back as she walks over to her towel, and with a quick glance over her shoulder, she sees that the eyes that are boring holes into her back are Armin’s.

She feels her mind spin with a weird mix of both embarrassment and bashfulness, and she quickly puts her towel around her shoulders before shuffling inside the house. Gradually, Armin’s stare on her back fleets and Annie lets out a sigh of relief when her unease slowly slips away.

“Uh, where’s the bathroom?” Annie asks Hitch when she steps inside.

“Down the hall to the right. First door on your left,” Hitch tells her, and the blonde nods before following her directions down the hall. She rounds the corner and, just as told, there’s a white door to her left. She steps forward and twists the doorknob open before she steps inside and flicks the lights on.

But there, on the countertop, she sees a sight that sends her skin crawling.

Bertholdt and Reiner… playing… tonsil hockey.

“Shit!” Bertholdt screeches, pushing Reiner off of him.

Annie continues to stare, wide-eyed, before she lets out a laugh, like a _fucking psychopath._

“Oh my god,” she says breathlessly, followed by a more surprised and dumbfounded, “oh my god!” Which is, again, followed by another, almost crazy-sounding screech-giggle, which is finished with a final, almost distributed, “oh my god.”

And then she shuts the door and walks away, her face bright red.

The door swings open so quickly that it crashes against the wall next to it and the doorknob leaves a dent in the wall.

“A-Annie, wait!” comes Bertholdt stuttering and horrified voice.

Annie swivels around to face him, but her eyes dart away from his face. Still, she can see his bright red blush in her peripherals.

“Ew,” is all she says, shaking her head with a scrunch of her nose, before, “oh my god- I need to fucking purge that from my memory and- Jesus, _lock the door_ next time!” She spits.

“S-Sorry,” Bertholt stutters. “Uh… can we uh… pretend you didn't... see that?” He asks awkwardly, rubbing the nape of his neck with his face only burning hotter and hotter with each passing second.

“Yeah, sure,” she grumbles. She shakes her head again, shivering uncomfortably as the memory involuntarily flashes through her mind, unbidden and disturbing. “So uh… you and Reiner are a thing now?”

“Yup.”

Annie looks up to see Reiner leaning against the doorframe, big arms crossed over his chest with only a slight blush. He doesn’t even seem the least bit uneasy about what Annie just witnessed, opposed to his (boy)friend, Bertholdt, who looks like he’s on the verge of puking.

“Right,” Annie nods slowly, eyes flitting between Reiner and Bertholdt before she adds, “good for you.”

“C-Can you not tell anyone?” Bertholdt asks.

“Why would I tell anyone?” Annie asks back. Bertholdt shrugs, and to that Annie asks, “do I look like I have loose lips to you?”

“Uh, no, I-I guess not.”

Annie takes a step back. “Alright, so, I’m just gonna go back to…” In lieu of finishing her statement, Annie jerks a thumb behind her shoulder, gesturing to where everybody else is. “Have fun fucking, I guess.”

And then she walks away, ignoring Bertholdts flustered cry of _“we aren’t fucking!”_ which is only followed a snarky remark from Reiner ( _"but we will be, soon._ ”) which leaves Annie internally gagging.

But underneath her discomfort is something else, lingering there.

_Jealousy._

She knows why she’s jealous.

It’s because she wants what Bertholdt and Reiner have with each other—a romantic (or at least, she assumes in romantic) relationship. She wants to be romantically involved with Armin. And she’s jealous because Bertholdt and Reiner have what she wants.

Or… maybe it’s more than jealousy.

 _Envy,_ is her next, unbidden thought.

And she realizes that what she feels is, in fact, envy.

When she steps into the living room to see everyone gathered around a table where a game of flip cup is ensuing, she looks past the throng of people to see that it’s Hitch and Sasha who’re playing against each other. On Sasha’s side of the table, Annie spots Armin there, cheering her on alongside Connie and Marco, and Annie feels a pang of longing shoot through her chest, _wishing_ that she could just grab Armin, pull him aside, and kiss him breathless.

Alas, her pining is useless—why wish for something that’ll never happen? So she simply slides up next the Marco and cheers Sasha on as the brunette moves onto her final drink, on her way of winning the game.

* * *

“No.”

Sasha frowns at Mina. “Oh come on, you don’t like horror films?”

“No,” Mina repeats again, “I don’t.”

Sasha offers the girl puppy-dog eyes. “ _Please?_ ” She begs through a whine, the word stretching on forever.

“Ugh, please just say yes,” Connie grumbles, “or else she’ll never shut up.”

The raven sighs and shrugs. “Fine, fine, whatever. We can watch a scary movie.”

Sasha finally shuts up about her _please_ and smiles, wrapping an arm around Mina to pull her into a sideways hug. “Yes! Thank you!”

And then she clicks on Marlo’s tv and finds the horror film she had suggested. It had been two hours and the sun was finally setting. After playing a couple more drinking games, some of which ended up in failure because Mina and Hitch had gotten too drunk, the ten of them (Reiner and Bertholdt finally decided to join them when they were into their fourth round of beer pong) all winded own into Marlo’s living room to watch a movie.

Annie is tossing a bag of microwavable popcorn into a microwave when she remembers that her clothing is still outside and that she’s still in her swimsuit, so she tells everyone that she’ll be right back as she heads to the backyard to get her clothes. Just as she’s sliding the door open, Armin says, “Oh, let me come with you,” and before Annie can say anything else, he’s right behind her.

With a sigh, Annie steps out with Armin following behind her.

She realizes that this is their first time being alone together. She wants to jump him.

Armin walks across the backyard to where his shirt is on the lounge chair, unmoved, and Annie quickly grabs her own clothes on the other side of the pool when, suddenly, an unfamiliar voice grabs both of their attention.

“Shit!” It screeches.

Annie turns, trying to find the source of the voice, only to be met with the sight of the backyard fence, and she realizes that the speaker must be on the other side.

And then, a bit belatedly, she realizes that there’s something coming right at her.

A volleyball, coming from the other side of the fence and hurtling straight towards her head, and blue eyes fly open in shock at it. She sees Armin rush over to her in her peripheral vision, but before it comes close to flattening her nose and actually hitting her, Annie lifts her arms to deflect it. Armin lets out a short sigh of relief and Annie, too, feels a bit relieved that the ball didn’t actually hit her face.

But her feeling of relief is short-lived, as the action had only set off a chain reaction of events that leave Annie ill-fated. 

The force of the ball forces her back into a lounge chair, which then pushes out from under her and knocks into the table that had been set up outside. One of the beers falls off the table, shattering on the floor as a red solo cup filled with lemonade topples over the edge and spills on the floor.

Annie jolts away from the shattered glass, although she trips on the solo cup on the floor and almost immediately falls over. A cry escapes her throat as she instinctively grasps the air, reaching out for something to keep her up, only for that said thing to be the lemonade dispenser, and it unscrews, drenching Annie’s front side completely. The back of her leg hits the rough edge of the table which, finally, has the series of unfortunate events ending with Annie toppling into the pool.

When she resurfaces, there’s a hand reaching out for her from above the water, and she looks up to see Armin looking at her, both horrified and concerned. She slides her hand into his and lets him help her out of the pool, drenched in both lemonade and pool water, and a look to the scattered clothing in the water tells Annie that she doesn’t have any spare clothing to change into.

“Are you alright?” Armin asks Annie as she climbs out of the water. The blonde nods slowly, although she stumbles and winces when she stands. They both turn to look down at the back of her legs, and Annie frowns deeply to the bright red marks on the of the legs. She must’ve scraped her limbs on something pretty rough if the blood seeping out of her bruise and sliding down her legs is any indication.

“Ugh,” she grumbles.

“Maybe there’s a first aid kit,” Armin suggests, “let me go see.”

Annie nods, watching him walk back into the house, and she walks over to one of the upright lounge chairs with a frown before she yelps as something sharp sinks into the skin on her foot. She jumps away and glowers at the shattered glass that had cut her foot, leaving, yet again, another wound. Dejectedly, Annie flops down on the floor with a pout.

Hitch and Armin soon come rushing outside with a first aid kit in tow, and Annie exhales a breath of relief at it.

“Oh my god,” Hitch murmurs, eyes scanning over the scene. She takes note of the drop of blood where Annie had cut her foot on the floor by the shattered glass with a grimace. “Jesus, did someone try to _kill_ you?”

“I don’t know,” Annie grumbles, watching as Armin opens the kit. “Some ball came over from the neighbors’ side.”

Hitch rolls her eyes. “Oh, I _know_ who they are. A bunch of brats who always play ball games in their tiny backyard, and it always ends up here.”

As if on cue, a kid’s head pops over the other side of the fence. It’s a young girl who, strangely enough, Annie _does_ recognize.

“Hi, can I get my-” The girl’s voice cuts short when she sees Annie and she smiles broadly. “Oh, hi, Annie!” She says with a grin.

Hitch’s eyes widen. “You know her?”

“She’s Reiner’s cousin,” Annie explains, looking at her roommate with a shrug. “I’ve met her once. Her name is Gabi.”

“Oh,” Hitch murmurs, before, “so, where’d the ball go?”

Armin points to the other side of the backyard. Hitch sighs when she notes how far it is, but then walks around the pool to retrieve the ball anyways.

“Uhm, may I…?” Armin asks quietly.

Annie looks down to see that Armin has crouched down next to her ( _When did he get there?_ ) and when he looks at her leg, Annie understands what he’s asking.

“Oh, you don’t have to,” she replies quietly.

Armin shakes his head, dismissing her. “It’s alright,” he says before he sits down cross-legged and lifts Annie’s leg. He places it atop his folded legs, using an alcohol-soaked gauze to wipe off the smeared blood and clean up her leg. Annie’s heart kicks into overdrive and she starts to feel the painful throb of her uncontrollable pulse beneath her ruined skin. She becomes vaguely aware of anything else around her because, really, her attention is fixated on the boy directly in front of her.

Obviously.

“Sorry, it’ll sting a bit,” he says, and as if right on cue, Annie hisses in a sharp breath through grit teeth when her cut begins to burn. She grimaces as he continues, cleaning up both her legs and the cut at her foot that she didn’t even think he noticed. 

Her breath hitches in her throat when Armin’s (perfect) warm fingers place featherlight touches against her cool, bare skin, and she’s too busy suppressing a tiny moan from his touch than to wonder if he’s touching her a bit extra on purpose. When his fingers rest against her shin, Annie shivers and just barely manages to hold herself together.

“I-I could— _ah_ —do this m-myself, y-you know?” Annie mumbles, licking her dry lips and hoping that she sounds normal.

“I just told you, I don’t mind,” Armin mutters back, his voice low and gentle. Finally, he finishes cleaning off the blood and drops the gauze, and Annie winces before relaxing. Sort of.

“Alright?” Armin asks softly.

Annie nods slowly, unsure of what would escape her mouth is she would _dare_ speak, though her gaze remains glued to where her leg is atop his. She wants to move to sit on his lap.

Silence blankets them as Armin continues to work diligently, yet tenderly at the same time, careful not to irritate her broken skin, and Annie _can’t breathe_.

Hoping that Armin doesn’t notice the heat pooling her stomach, making her drown in affection for him with her leg draped over him, Annie focuses on measuring her breathing. She forces herself to make sure that there’s still oxygen entering and leaving her body again and again, although her chest feels tight and she feels as though she’s on the verge of panting.

A tiny gasp escapes her when Armin places a clean gauze over the wound on her left leg, her leg trembling slightly, and Armin lifts his head to look at her to make sure that she isn’t hurt. They lock eyes as a murmured apology slips past Armin’s lips, and she wonders, for a second, if he notices the lust forming her eyes.

It feels like a couple of hours before, finally, Armin tears his gaze away from Annie as he grabs a roll of tape and hands it to her. The latter stares at the item handed to her dumbly, like an _idiot,_ before finally realizing what Armin wants from her. She quickly grabs the tape, rips a piece, and hands it to him, reveling in the slight contact their fingers make. Warm fingers press against her calf when Armin tapes the gauze down, a thumb absentmindedly rubbing circles along her skin, and Annie feels her body shudder at the constant contact.

She wonders how his fingers would feel like rubbing circles along her-

 _Fucking_ ** _behave_** _!_ she chastises herself again for the second time that day.

A prickle of goosebumps rises in the wake of smooth fingers brushing against her skin as Armin moves onto her next leg. Again, the same thing happens; Armin places the clean gauze on her torn skin, Annie hands him a piece of ripped tape and shivers at the contact their fingers make, he tapes the gauze down, his thumbs rub absentminded circles along her skin.

Annie’s heart flutters at the contact.

Finally, he moves down her foot. Some blood had begun to seep through the cut again, so Armin reaches into the first aid kit for another cotton pad, but upon realizing that none are left, he frowns. He swallows nervously, his adam’s apple bobbing in her throat, before, “uh, do you mind if…” his voice trails off as he gestures to the blood trickling down her foot. “With my sleeve?”

“Huh? Oh, uh, g-go ahead,” Annie mutters. “But, wouldn’t that be-”

Armin is already pulling down the cuff of his arm sleeve, folding it over his hand, and pressing it to the dripping blood before Annie can finish her sentence. 

“Oh,” Annie sighs, “well… now I’m all over you.”

Armin blanches, and then turns bright red. “Wh-What?”

“Blood!” Annie chokes out. “It’s all over you. M-My blood is… fuck—it’s on your sleeve, Armin.”

Armin stiffens a bit, but then looks down at his sleeve, unfazed. “It’s alright,” he murmurs, “it’s for you.”

Annie lets herself float away when she hears that. _It’s for you_ , the words echo in her head. She barely registers that Armin has grabbed a bandaid until he touches her foot

Annie flinches—her foot is the most ticklish spot on her body—and she lets out a little squeal and thrusts her leg forward.

Luckily, Armin dodges her kick. But shit, if she managed to land an actual kick on his face, Armin could be nursing a broken jaw for months.

They both still before Armin finally finishes, gently grabbing her foot to place the bandaid on her skin.

Annie shivers again, her face turning bright red with an involuntary sigh slipping past her lips.

But then the warmth of Armin’s body gone, and he is hurriedly rising to her feet.

“Uh, o-okay… I’m just... i-inside. I’m going. Inside, that is. I’m going inside now.” Poor boy—he looks like he’s on the verge of a heart attack with a face that red. “I’ll see you… inside. Okay. Bye.”

And then Armin stalks back towards the house.

Annie blinks after him with some heat still prominent in her cheeks, chest rising and falling rapidly and her eyes wide. What just happened? No, really, _what just fucking happened?_

  
  


“Whoa…”

Annie starts violently, bristling, having completely forgotten that she had an audience consisting of two females watching her. Annie turns to see Gabi gaping at her with Hitch staring bug-eyed and confused, Gabi’s volleyball in hand. Annie hadn’t even realized that Hitch had retrieved it and made it back over the backyard—she must’ve been too consumed to realize _anything_ that had been going on around her.

Hitch’s eyes remain on Armin’s retreating figure curiously as he crosses the backyard, although Gabi’s eyes don’t leave Annie. Hitch and Gabi seem a bit red, too, feeling somehow _dirty_ about what they just witnessed. Judging by the looks in both her roommate’s and the younger girl’s eyes, they both seem to know what just happened between the two blondes (wait, what _did_ happen, anyway?). Annie knows that no excuse will save her now.

“Um, ” Hitch begins slowly, amber eyes looking back to Annie, “should I have seen that?”

“Seen what?” Annie asks, half-confused and half-knowing—like she _knows_ what Hitch means, yet she still seems very confused herself.

“Whoa…” Gabi repeats from earlier. “I’ve never… whoa. Not even I’ve seen Reiner like that before.”

“Like _what?"_ Annie chokes, suddenly desperate to know what she looks like.

“Like… _that_.” Gabi lifts her arm over the fence and gestured vaguely to Annie’s… _everything_. “Whoa,” she says again.

“Ugh, whatever,” Annie rasps out, trying to feign annoyance into her tone, although it could be fairly mistaken for embarrassment. She hops up to her feet, wincing a bit at the pain that shoots through her legs but making it back to the house nonetheless. Just as she’s about to reach the sliding door, she shivers, and remembers, albeit a bit belatedly, that she doesn’t have any other clothes to change into.

She turns around and as if on cue, Hitch notices Annie’s clothes floating around in the pool.

“Uh, thanks. Bye!” Gabi squeaks, grabbing her volleyball from Hitch before taking off into her backyard, disappearing behind the fence.

“Aren’t those yours?” Hitch calls out to Annie as she plucks the clothes from the water.

Annie grumbles out a, “yes.”

A few seconds of silence pass between them before Hitch starts to laugh, sounding astounded and breathless. “Man, that… that was… whoa.”

“Can you stop saying that and just get me some spare clothes?” Annie snaps, a flush of embarrassment taking over her face.

Hitch laughs again—a bit more amused this time—and then nods. “Right, right. I have something in the car, come on.”

Annie nods and follows Hitch through the house and to the driveway, making sure to duck her head whenever she makes eye contact with Armin as she quickly sidles up next to Hitch as they step outside.

* * *

“So, I guess I was right... ish,” Hitch says as she digs through her trunk for spare clothes.

“Right? About what?”

“About you and Armin,” she answers simply, and Annie bristles when she says this. “Well, I was at least right about you liking him.”

“I-I don’t-”

“Oh, don’t worry, I won’t tell,” Hitch butts into her statement. “Ah-hah, here it is,” she murmurs, pulling out a dress.

Annie frowns at it—it’s a white sundress with a sort of floral pattern on it. It _looks_ nice, but Annie doesn’t really… _do_ dresses.

“You gonna take it or not, Leonhardt?” Hitch asks, thrusting it in her direction.

“I will,” Annie grumbles, knowing that she doesn’t have any more options. She slips it on, glad that she doesn’t feel sticky from the lemonade since she had also fallen into the pool and the water had washed the lemonade off, but she still feels uncomfortable nonetheless.

After tossing Annie’s wet clothes into the trunk, Hitch locks her car and they both walk inside.

All the lights are off, the only source of illumination coming from the living room, and when they both step into the open space, they see that everybody is already on the couch, waiting for them to start the movie. Sasha waves them over, telling them quickly, _"_ _sit sit!"_ They both oblige and Hitch finds a spot next to her boyfriend, but, much to her dismay, the only spot available for Annie is beside Armin.

Reluctantly, she walks over and sits beside him, body rigid and stiff with her breathing suddenly labored. The movie starts and Armin offers her the bowl of popcorn about ten minutes in—Annie nods her thanks and takes a handful of popcorn before shoving it into her mouth.

And, somehow, Annie manages to remain normal throughout the movie. The film proceeds without hitch, and by the end of it, Annie finds that she’s the only one awake. Granted, Sasha had suggested a late-1980s movie, which meant that the jumpscares were mediocre and there was no actual horror. But the plot, thankfully, was interesting.

But now, with the movie rolling through the end credits and the sound of everyone’s light snores filling the room, Annie supposes that it wouldn’t be too bad to let herself fall asleep either. So, in spite of her better judgment, she leans over to where Armin has been sitting beside her last time she checked, leaning her head against something cushioning, and lets a wave of exhaustion carry her away.

  
  


Ten minutes later, Annie feels herself slowly wake up when she feels fingers stroke her head. Half-lidded and half-awake cerulean eyes flit up to peer up at the male with flaxen looking down at her.

“Mmn, Armin?” Her voice is no louder than a whisper, laden with exhaustion.

“Shh,” his velvety voice murmurs, “it’s okay.”

Annie nods and lets her eyes fall closed again. Her brain finally registers that the touches she feels are Armin's hands stroking her hair soothingly, lulling her back to sleep as one of his arms rests lazily on her waist. She hums pleasantly against his touch, nuzzling closer into his thigh as she lets herself slip back into dreamland again.

_Yeah… he’s right… it’s okay._

_I’m okay._

_This is okay._

_…_

_Thank you, Armin_

_…_

_I love you._

_Goodnight._

She never realizes that she had murmured this aloud.

But, still, Armin doesn’t hear her—her voice is too quiet under the sound of a random show he had flipped to on the tv.

* * *

An hour later, after watching three episodes of some random cartoon, Armin turns off the tv and sighs. Annie had been using his lap as a makeshift pillow, but now his thighs feel weird and his groin feels strangely tingly. He wriggles out from under her, putting an actual, soft pillow underneath her head, and when he rises off the couch, he hears Annie whimper.

“No,” she murmurs, completely asleep, “don’t… go.”

Armin’s chest tightens. He sits on his haunches and pushes blonde strands away from her forehead and sighs. “I’m sorry…” he murmurs, “but I have to.” He says this knowing full well that she’s asleep and can’t hear him. But still, he leans forward and kisses her forehead before he rises up to is full length and stalks to the bathroom. 

He doesn’t bother to flick on the light—he only closes the door softly, leans against the wood, and pulls the waistband of his swimming trunks down. There, he sees the shaft that had only grown progressively stiffer as Annie had rested on his lap. And when she had nuzzled into his thigh, scooting closer to his groin, and- _oh God_.

He should feel weird, really, for doing this in the bathroom of somebody’s home that he only met today, but he knows that his dick definitely isn’t complaining as he curls his fingers around it. 

Armin lets out a sigh at the long-needed contact and jerks his hips up into his fist. He pulls up the bottom of his shirt and bites the fabric between his teeth to further uncover himself, tugging at rigid the skin and groaning at his own action when he rubs a thumb along his slit. 

Using his own precum to slick up his cock, Armin pumps himself, fast and hard, until his hips begin to shake and thrust forward in time with his jerks. Soon, he’s simply driving his leaking cock in and out of his fist, fast and erratically as his building arousal pools in the pit of stomach before, finally, he spills into his hand, groaning at the release. 

He lets out a long groan when he finishes, opening his mouth to let the fabric off his shirt flop out of it, crumbled as it falls back into place. His body slips down the door as he frowns, knocking his head back against the wood as a sigh escapes him.

A feeling of dread wells up in his throat because he _knows_ what’s going to happen soon, but, honestly, he’s not in favor of it happening.

But… he needs to get over her _someday_.

So when he gives Annie her birthday gift, it’ll be Armin’s own way of letting go of her.

He sighs again.

His final goodbye to these godforsaken feelings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you know, i was debating on whether or not I should end this on a happy note, but then i realized that they'll be plenty time for " _happy_ " in chapter 1000000000000000 so I decided to end it on a bittersweet note >:)
> 
> and hahA, IF YOU THINK THIS IS AS DIRTY AS IT'S GONNA GET, I HAVE TO TELL YOU THAT YOU ARE SADLY MISTAKEN, MY FRIEND!
> 
> oh bOY IF ONLY YOU KNEW WHAT I HAVE IN STORE FOR YOU *violently sobs*


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> references to Annie and Armin's interactions in the anime? CHECK ✔
> 
> Annie suffers through some inner conflict in this one because I just really love getting psychological and into people's head like that in my writing (also, the more drama the better???)

When Armin eventually leaves the bathroom after cleaning up, he moves on shaky feet. He feels strangely empty—like he’s only awaiting the inevitable through a hollow vessel. Even when he bumps shoulders with someone on his way back to the living room, he feels numb to the contact, and the only thing that manages to root him back to reality is a quiet, “sorry,” from beside him.

And then he stiffens—both he _and_ the person he bumped into stiffen. Slowly, blue eyes lock with blue and Armin swallows, just barely managing to make out Annie’s features in the dark. He wants to kiss her. He wants this to be over.

“Oh,” he rasps out, “you’re awake?” He hopes she doesn’t remember waking up on his lap to him stroking her hair. In all actuality, he has no idea why he was stroking her hair himself—he was just desperate for contact with her.

“Yeah,” Annie says slowly, her voice laden with exhaustion, “my head started hurting.”

Armin nods. “Oh.”

“I was going to go stand outside to cool down,” she says slowly.

Armin nods again.

There's silence for a bit. Then; "Want to come with?”

And then ten minutes later, they’re walking down the sidewalk. It’s around 10pm this time when their feet are pattering against the pavement as they walk around the block. With no destination in mind, they slowly stride forward together; Armin awkwardly sidles up next to Annie as they walk, but he still manages to match her pace.

“Did you ever fall asleep?” Annie asks him as they walk down the neighborhood, passing row upon row of houses.

“Yeah,” Armin says, “but I woke up.”

Annie nods. Neither can seem to tell if the silence that settles between them is awkward after that, but neither tries to break it either. Armin hopes that Annie at least feels comfortable—he feels too disconnected from everything to gauge her expression and see whether or not she feels at ease with him.

“How’re your legs?” He decides to ask, though he only asks this when her left leg starts to tremble, as though the trembling of her leg is a reminder to him of the injuries she's sustained. “Are they feeling any better?”

“They're as good as they can be,” she sighs.

“That was a pretty hard hit. You sure you’re okay?”

Annie nods and Armin thinks for a moment that he sees a bit of a smile tug at her lips. “I’m fine, really,” she says. “Thank you for worrying about me,” she adds on.

“Anything for the birthday girl,” he comments with a grin. The breath that leaves her nose could be mistaken for embarrassment because of the way she was addressed as, but Armin knows that she’s amused. He wishes he felt normal enough to savor the thought of her amused. 

When they turn a corner, they come across a park right in front of them. Annie gasps excitedly and Armin turns just in time to see her eyes widening before she runs forward to the park.

“It’s a park,” she proclaims, sounding breathless and unusually happy, though the sound of her joyful voice makes Armin smile along with her.

“It sure is,” he replies, following right after her as she moves across the bark mulch on the floor. She climbs the stairs to the structure to stand at the top of the slide, grinning down at him, and Armin smiles up at her as she settles down to sit at the top.

“You act like this is your first time at a park,” he says, half-teasing her somewhat childlike excitement, though he has to admit that her joy makes him feel nice too.

“Well, no, it isn’t,” she shakes her head, “but it’s my first time being at a park in a while”

Armin smiles. “Well, I’m not stopping you from enjoying yourself.”

Just as he says this, Annie pushes herself from the top and slips down the slide. She lets out a tiny laugh of excitement when she meets Armin at the bottom and sighs pleasantly.

“Wow,” is all she says.

“Wow?” He echoes with an amused smirk.

“Wow, that felt good,” she clarifies. She leans back, resting her head on the cold surface of the plastic slide before she smiles. Her smile is so tiny yet still so, _so_ bright. “Reminds me of being a kid.”

Armin looks at her hair fanned out across the plastic and her satisfied expression, and his mind mentally recoils.

 _It’s going to be hard letting her go,_ he thinks. And he’s right; it _will_ be hard. But, hopefully, in the end, it’ll be worth it.

Only later will he discover how simultaneously right and wrong he is.

* * *

Most nights consist of Annie going to bed pining for a boy out of her reach. Most mornings she awakes from having a dream about him that left her chest heavy. There is no word she can use to describe how she constantly feels, other than one word, which is dysphoric. She’s in a constant state of dysphoria—euphoria’s evil cousin. And even when she’s happy like she is now, there’s always that lingering thought in the back of her mind— _You won’t be happy like this forever. After this, you’ll go to your room and cry_.

And every single time, those thoughts are right.

So when tonight she finds herself beside the boy of her dreams, sitting on the swingset with him right here with her as a heavy feeling settles in her chest, she lets herself be selfish. She lets herself enjoy this short but sweet moment because she knows that the minute it ends, she’ll be fucked.

 _Again_.

But hey, it helps to have a distraction from how broken you are sometimes, right?

Slowly, Annie leans forward and lifts her feet off the ground, letting the breeze carry her on the swing. Before she knows it, there are hands at the small of her back—Armin’s hands—as he gently pushes her forward.

“Thanks,” she says as she starts to pivot forward.

“Don’t mention it.”

She lets him push her, back and forth, and back and forth. The cool air feels nice against her skin as she continues to sway back and forth in the swing, a breeze rolling by and leaving her comfortable. A weird mixture of being drunk on alcohol and drunk on the bliss she feels has her stomach churning and heart pounding so hard it nearly _hurts_.

“So,” Armin begins as Annie swings back down, “did you enjoy today?”

Annie nods and purses her lips together. “I did. A lot.” She’s not smiling to express her enthusiasm, but she hopes that Armin can hear the genuineness behind her words.

“Hm,” he hums in response, “that’s good.”

When his hands slowly push her forward again after she comes back down, Annie peers at him past her shoulder and frowns. When she comes back down, her legs fall to the ground as she digs her feet into the bark to keep him from pushing her away again.

“Hey, I don’t remember getting a gift from you,” she says, mainly teasing but also curious because Armin _did_ say that he had gotten something for her.

At the mention of her gift, Armin, yet again, bristles, like he had earlier. Annie catches it and narrows her eyes at him, blonde brows pinching together as she studies his reaction. _What are you hiding,_ _Arlert?_ she wonders.

“I told you,” he murmurs, “it’s a surprise.”

Annie studies him for no longer than a few more seconds before sighing and closing her eyes. “You said-“

“I know what I said,” Armin interrupts cheekily, although Annie can hear the apprehension in his voice. _What are you scared of, Arlert?_ she wonders. “Don’t worry, Leonhardt, you’ll get your birthday gift. Patience.”

Annie grumbles but then shrugs, relenting her stare and looking forward. “If it’s not a car, I’m going to be mad that you made me wait this long.”

At this, Armin lets out a laugh as he pushes her forward at the swings once more. “Sorry to disappoint, but I’m a poor college student who can barely afford a pencil, let alone a car. But I hope you’ll still like it.”

“You hope?” Annie echoes.

“I hope,” Armin confirms with a nod.

“Mmn, I’m sure I’ll like anything you give me,” Annie murmurs absently, speaking honestly, the words just flowing out of her. Only after she speaks does she realize what she says but, still, for some reason, she can’t find it in herself to feel flustered. She wonders if now is when the alcohol is starting to kick in, sweeping her sobriety away and all her inhibitions with it.

“Well, let’s hope so,” Armin replies.

Annie nods. She’s sure she’ll be happy with whatever Armin gives her. Hell, he could give her a fucking _rock_ and Annie would be pleased.

When, again, silence settles between them, Annie’s mind wanders back, reliving what happened earlier that day. Today really was a good day, she has to admit. The party and the pool and Armin. It leaves her feeling all floaty.

But then her mind wanders too far back into her memories, and she remembers the conversation she heard between Armin and Jean earlier that day—about Jean asking Armin if he ever got over someone. And when she recalls this, her shoulders tighten, but before she can bite down on her own tongue, she’s blurting out, “how’s your crush?”

Armin freezes completely. Luckily, Annie doesn’t notice that he stopped moving because she doesn’t need him to push her anymore—she’s simply swinging back and forth on the swingset by her own now.

“Um,” Armin clears his throat, “she’s good.”

Annie’s heart feels like it’s doing aerobics in her ribcage. “That’s good. Did you ever fall out of love?” _Shut up, shut up. What the fuck are you saying?_

“Uh…” Armin starts to think for a moment before he says, “I’m getting there.”

Annie nods. “That’s good,” she repeats, before adding, “Remind me why you don’t want to ask her out again?” There’s a faint thread of hope spun by nothing at all in her mind, and she thinks, _maybe I can get who his crush is out of him. Maybe… it’ll be me_.

Her hope is so thin, so weak, but she clings to the thread as though she’ll fall off the face of the earth if she ever lets go.

Armin sighs. “I don’t want to ruin our friendship,” he admits, although his reply sounds like it’s coming out through grit teeth.

The thread of hope in her mind slowly thickens as it winds its way around her heart, squeezing the beating organ.

“But… you should still… tell her.” Her throat tightens—her voice fades away. _She_ fades away.

“I can't,” Armin sighs, “it’s not worth losing her over my feelings.”

The thread of hope winds around Annie’s lungs, pulling impossibly tighter against her organs and making her breaths come short. She needs to stop doing this.

 _Stop this. Shut up,_ a voice in her head snaps. 

_But I need to do this,_ she protests against it.

“Don’t you think she has uh… a right to know?” She asks.

Armin stays quiet for longer than she expects after she asks this, so Annie tilts her head over her shoulder to look at him as she continues to swing forward. His brows are pinched together in thought, but then his thoughtful expression melts away as a gentle smile forms on his lips. Is he… debating what she’s advising?

But then he shakes his head and shrugs. And, not answering her question at all with his response, he muses, “Annie, you’re actually pretty nice, huh?”

At this, Annie’s legs stop moving and her swinging motions slow. “What?”

“You’re trying to get me to confess. I mean, I won’t, but you’re being unusually nice and considerate.”

Blonde brows furrow. “Unusually nice and considerate?” She echoes. “You mean to tell me I’m usually an asshole.”

Armin blanches. “N-No, that’s not what I mean,” he stutters out. “You’re not an asshole.”

Annie sighs and shrugs. Her swinging has come to a complete stop and now she just hovers there, feet kicking up slowly into the air. “So, what? Do I really seem like such a good person to you?”

Blue eyes lower almost dejectedly. “A good person?” He echoes. “Eh, I don’t really like that term,” he says. “But to me, you’re a good person.”

After he says this, he looks at Annie on the swing and smiles at her. Annie’s mouth pops open as she continues to look up at him, head tilted behind her shoulder to view him. She inhales slowly, his scent filling her lungs and the thread of hope in her body tightening inside of her.

_What are you doing?_

_I just… want him._

_Fucking stop you idiot._

_But I..._

_Stop it._

_No_. _Let me… let me have this._

When his heady scent has her mind spinning, Annie feels her resolve slowly unravel as her heart climbs. The beating organ is in her throat now, pounding deafeningly loud in her ears as her mind screams at her—yells at her to _not be an idiot_.

“Annie?” Armin calls her, a curious brow tilting up at her suddenly stunned silence.

The girl in question parts her lips, her throat tight and heart hammering. Fuck, what’s happening? What’s happening? She’s losing control. **_What_** **_the fuck is happening?_**

“I-I…” Her voice is so puny and desperate. Her limbs are moving of their own volition. She feels her soul float away from her body and she finds herself sitting on the slide across the park, staring at herself—is this what it's like to have an out of body experience? “Armin,” she whines, desperate and hopeful.

Concern floods the boy’s features. He leans forward. “Yeah, what’s wrong?”

Annie gulps. Her soul returns to her vessel, but only to witness herself make the biggest mistake ever. Her right hand uncurls around the chain of the swing, reaching up for Armin and pulling his arm down when she grabs him.

“Annie?“

And when her name is dribbled from his lips in such a concerned and sensitive manner—like if he pronounces one syllable wrong it’ll destroy how delicate the name is—the tiny fortress of resistance in Annie’s heart tumbles to the ground. After a long and hard-fought battle, here is her rubicon; the point in which she moves on impulse, letting her growing desiring take her over as she gives up on hiding the truth, though she lacks the words to tell it.

Her lack of vocabulary she can use to word how she feels has her tilting backward further, though somehow in the back of her brain it doesn’t feel like that—it feels like she’s moving _forward_ with what she’s doing and when she feels a weight settle against her lips. 

She hasn’t kissed anyone in so long, so this is the barest of gestures. But despite how chaste the kiss, it feels like _everything_. And as the thread of hope in her body pulls taut against her heart and brain and lungs, she thinks, _do you get it now Armin? Do you understand? Please tell me you understand._

The longer they stay there with their lips connected, the more the world wraps around Annie. A gust of wind rolls by and everything around her wafts away with the breeze as if her surroundings were made up of nothing but dust and ashes. The ground warps and twists before it evanesces, the bark on the playground floor dissipating at the world falls apart. There is nothing in the entire grand scheme of things but Annie Leonhardt and Armin Arlert, kissing under the cover of the night. Nothing else is here because nothing else matters. Nothing.

Annie supposes that the thought of Armin actually kissing her back must’ve slipped her mind if the sudden shock she felt when he leaned forward to deepen their endeavor is any indication. She lets out a tiny whimper, her mind screaming, _yes yes yes_. But somehow, despite how pleasantly surprised she feels about him actually kissing her back, her body instinctively recoils. When the warm weight of Armin’s lips shift away from her, taking with it Annie’s peace of mind, and in its place is dread filling the vacancy left by Armin’s mouth departing hers, Annie’s eyes slowly flutter open. 

There, staring right back at her is Armin’s red face, eyes widened and pupils dilated. But then panic flashes through his blue eyes and Annie blanches as the world comes screeching back to her.

_Wait-_

_Now look what you did._

_No-_

_You fucked it up._

_I didn’t mean to-_

_Armin was wrong._

_I'm sorry-_

_You're not a good person._

_Shit, I-_

_You're selfish._

_Please just **listen** to-_

_Selfish asshole._

“Shit,” Annie gasps. She clambers off the swing, taking a few unsteady steps back. “Shit,” she repeats. “ _Shitshitshit._ ”

They stare at each other for a bit longer before she staggers to the side, maybe ready to puke, but instead, she lets out a laugh—a maniacal, _anguished_ laugh—and then…

…she runs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow. I think this officially counts as a slow burn™ because it's chapter fourteen and they're just now kissing??!!
> 
> honestly tho, after this chapter this story becomes a pretty tough uphill battle. you're probably thinking "worse than it already has been up until this point??" but honestly, i think the next chapter will be the most painful.
> 
> but tRUST ME when i say that tHeRe wiLL bE a hApPy eNdiNg
> 
> 07/21 edit: GUYS  
> I’M SICK  
> SO! Here’s the deal. I’m sick (we don’t know if it’s corona yet, the results haven’t come back yet) and honestly it is so hard to do anything without passing out or vomiting. It might take a while for chapter 15 to come out because of my ailment, but I’m not going to give up on writing just yet.  
> I’m sorry about this sudden turn of events, I have been self-quarantining but idk I still got sick so idk what to tell you  
> If you want to see if updates about my health and current well being, feel free to follow my [Twitter](https://mobile.twitter.com/mythni) where I literally tweet every few seconds. Again, I am so sorry that this happened, but hopefully I’ll get better soon so that I can keep working on this fanfic


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Honey, you’ve got a big storm comin’.” —That one lady whose name I cant remember from that one meme.  
> ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> Remember when I said that chapter 10 was as bad as it was gonna get? Hahah yeahhhh I lied >:)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi! I’m not dead  
> I know it’s been a while since I’ve updated and if you forgot what happened last chapter, I don’t blame you. I’ll just fill you in; currently, Annie and Armin are at a park at 10pm, it’s Annie’s birthday, and they kissed. Ikr ew cooties
> 
> I want to say if you ever think that I don’t see your comments on my chapters, yoU ARE COMPLETELY WRONG. Although I don’t respond to each and every comment, I can assure you that I read all of them, and thank you so much for all the positivity you guys have been sending my way. It honestly means so much to me <3

It’s…

It’s actually kind of funny.

Because just this Monday, Armin had a dream about kissing Annie. In that dream, their lips had danced together to the quiet tune of their gasps—breaths in sync as they swallowed down each other’s whimpers into their mouths. Armin had grabbed her waist, pulling her oh-so tight against his body, and Annie had rucked a hand through his hair before dropping the appendage to hold his neck, pulling _him_ impossibly closer.

She had shivered when his hand slipped underneath her shirt, tracing featherlight touches along milky skin almost as if he were trying to write a message with his fingertips. And Annie had been so desperate to get a hand between their bodies that when she finally did, she fumbled as she rushed to drag his shirt off of his body.

They had separated and a noise of disappointment escaped him as she pulled his shirt off, but their lips were quick to join together once again when the article of clothing was gone. Desperate hands moved feverishly along the exposed torso before resting between his shoulder blades, pulling him _closer closer closer_. Armin groaned involuntarily, though Annie welcomed the noise with parted lips as she let him slip a tongue into her mouth.

And they were perfect.

Earlier this month during their camping trip, Armin’s imagination had grown wild when the two ended up in a situation with their bodies so impossibly close that he imagined himself kissing her. He imagined tracing a hand up her jugular before resting it at her chin, tilting her head up so that all she could do was gaze into his eyes. He imagined speaking in a husky voice, begging, whispering, “ _tell me to stop,_ ” but when she hadn’t, he imagined kissing her.

Behind the cover of trees and bushes, he imagined her parting her lips for him, and he imagined kissing her until they were both nearly _breathless_. He imagined it, only to be dragged back to reality mid-imagination and realize that he’s a foolish idiot with a foolish imagination.

But, somehow, through all of that, his fantasy felt _perfect_.

So, yeah, one could say that it’s funny. Because since Armin has envisioned kissing Annie more than he’d like to admit, one would _think_ that he would know how to respond come the time that their actual lips pressed together. In some sort of bizarre yet amazing and merciful universe, they would actually kiss, and Armin would know what to do.

Except he doesn’t.

Because come Annie’s birthday and somehow, late at night, they find themselves at a park, and Annie is _actually fucking kissing him_ ( _!!!_ ) . And all Armin does is stay unmoving, in shock, jaw slacked. For the first ten seconds, he wonders, _is this actually fucking happening?_ In the next ten, he thinks, _holy fucking fuck this is actually fucking happening_ . And, finally, in the last ten, he thinks, **_this is fucking happening!_ **

But after remaining unmoving for thirty seconds, he finally shifts forward. He finally deepens the kiss, face flooding with color as a thought of _yes yes yes_ comes over him. A sigh escapes him—thoughtful and thinking about how long he’s waited for this and how happy he is that it’s actually come.

And his numbness slowly slips away—he starts to feel again. 

He starts to hear the own rhythm of his heartbeat in his ears and feels the blood coursing through his veins. He feels the heat burning his cheeks red and the arousal in his body creeping lower to his groin. Another sigh escapes him—more satisfied than anything else—as he shifts forward one more time to-

Annie pulls back.

Armin doesn’t know how long it’s been, but he does know that Annie eventually pulls away. The comforting warmth of her lips is gone in a matter of seconds and his eyes open to look at her, his face bright red and eyes slowly widening.

_Shit. Did I… mess up?_

Annie’s eyes flutter open just as a feeling of panic rushes through him. She gapes at him, blue orbs widening as she rises off the swing with a gasp.

“Shit,” is what comes through her gasp, before another, “shit.” She’s quiet and Armin stares, confused and scared, before she finally blurts out a string of, “ _Shitshitshit._ ”

Annie backpedals and Armin wonders if he really did fuck up. Shit—maybe he wasn’t meant to lean in like that? Or—or maybe he sighed in a weird way that freaked her out. Or—fuck— _what did he do_ **_wrong_ ** _?_

But then…

…Annie laughs. It sounds pained and anguished and maniacal—Armin cringes at the sound of it.

And when her laughter cuts short,

she runs.

For a few seconds, Armin's gaze lingers on the vacancy in front of him—where Annie _was_. The absence of her body leaves the atmosphere around him feeling weird—strange—empty. He swallows—gulps nervously, really—before the sound of rapidly retreating footfalls sends him crashing back down to the earth, and he looks just in time to see Annie disappear behind the playground structure. When his senses finally come back to him, Armin dashes after Annie’s figure.

Annie Leonhardt is a fast runner, so it’s painful trying to reach her, but with her legs injured she isn’t as fast so Armin doesn’t fall _too_ far behind. When Armin gets into earshot, he starts to hear her say something; “ _shit,_ ” she’s repeating over and over again, sounding pained and disappointed and broken and all the negative emotions that Armin _doesn’t_ want her to feel like—let alone sound like.

When he trips around a corner, his voice rips from his throat before he even registers it. “ _ANNIE!_ ” The name comes out through a panicked fury, absolutely _terrified_.

Through a patch of bushes, Annie curves around the shrubs and continues forward. Armin’s shoes catch unsteadily on the grass as he tries to mimic her sharp turn which only sends him into a large tree. He blinks dizzily as his shoulder aches, groaning as his eyes flutter open to see Annie all the way down the path.

“Annie,” he grumbles, voice weak as he pushes off the tree to go after her. Annie bristles, looking over her shoulder back at Armin, and when blue eyes lock with blue…

…she runs again.

  
  
  
  
  


“Annie.”

His voice is grumbling her name out through a haze of anger—this, Annie is sure of—and when she bristles before looking over her shoulder to see him push off the tree he collided into in following after her, all color drains from her face as she dashes away again.

_Fuck. Fuck!_

_You fucked up._

_I know!_

_You’re a shitty friend and-_

_Fuck, I know!_

_He hates you. He fucking hates you now._

_Shit. I didn’t-_

_Do you really think he’ll want to be your friend after this?_

_I didn’t mean for it to be like this!_

Tears sting her eyes as she races against the wind—against the world—against _Armin_ . Everything seems to be after her—the trees, trying to halt her movement with stray branches and the wind, slowing her down as she surges against it—and suddenly, all Annie wants is forgiveness. Even if she doesn’t exactly know what she did wrong ( _Of course you know, you fucking asshole_ ) she just wants to be forgiven.

The air might’ve been cool earlier, but now it seems hot against her skin, making her sweat buckets and muscles weak. The sound of her feet shuffling against the grass is no match for her pounding heartbeat, though, because now it hammers angrily in her ears. At first, it seemed quiet—faint—but it quickly turned deafening, and now all Annie wants is for everything to stop and for everything to be quiet.

If only just for a moment.

_Please…_

She hears Armin behind her again—calling out to her through a raspy voice—but all she does in response is try to put more distance between them because _what the fuck_.

_What the fuck._

_What the actual fuck._

_What the actual_ **_fuck_ ** _did I do._

But you don’t need question marks when all the answers are already apparent and well-known.

“Annie, wait!” Armin cries behind her.

Annie curses and steals a glance from behind her shoulder only to see Armin right on her tail.

She looks forward again, unshed tears blurring her vision, though she still manages to make out the sight of another patch of trees and bushes in front of her. If she’s fast enough, she can duck under there and hide from Armin. She can get away. She’s almost-

But she doesn’t even have time to change course before a stray calico cat emerges from the foliage beside her, dashing across her path and sending Annie skittering around it only for her to topple to the ground.

But she still thinks, _I can still make it,_ because she still can. If she just gets up fast enough-

But her limbs don’t move. Her body feels heavy. Her wounds have reopened and are starting to ache. And before she can think, Armin's figure is _right_ _there_ as the _shuffle-shuffle_ of his footsteps round on her.

_Shit._

_This is it. This is the end._

_No, I can still-_

_Your friendship with Armin is going to end._

_No, wait-_

_Pathetic._

Annie lets out a whimper and sighs. Her eyes close. Her mind fills with dread. She hopes this isn’t the end, but her father always told her that it was foolish to try to ignore the obvious when signs of anything else happening are slim, so she simply inhales a breath that shudders her chest and braces herself for the worst.

What happens next is that Armin’s body falls right beside her.

  
  
  
  
  


Armin doesn’t stop in time when he sees Annie trip—his footsteps falter, but his body is still moving with momentum, and all he does is pitch forward on unsteady feet before tumbling to the ground. His head instantly pops up, though his arm scrapes against the bramble bush beside him, leaving a red cut on his skin. He hisses at the slight pain, but then stuffs the feeling down and forces his gaze on Annie’s unmoving figure in front of him. _No time for pain_.

“A-Annie-“ His voice rasps out, choked, and pathetic. “Shit—don’t—“

Annie looks up at Armin with eyes so wide her pupils seem to have shrunk.

“Uh,” she blurts. “I-I’m drunk—the alcohol, I swear. It didn’t—shit—mean anything. Fuck—Armin-“ Annie’s voice shakes out of her as panic floods her features, and she finally makes to get up—limbs scrambling to rise up off the ground. Armin jolts and reaches out for her before she can leave, curling his fingers around her wrist to keep her in place.

“A-Armin— _AGH_ ,” she yelps when Armin jerks her towards him, tougher than he intended to. “Shit. I’m sorry, I— _agh_ —don’t—w-wait—“

“Wait, Annie!” Armin cries, trying to get her to stop rambling. “L-Listen to-“

“Mistake—I swear! Let go! Please— _please!_ ”

Annie’s arm tries to jerk out of his grasp, but Armin only tightens his grip on her. However, Armin knows that in a match of strength, Annie would beat him, so it’s not long before she finally pries his hand off of her and makes to dash away again.

“Goddammit, Annie!” Armin bites, catching her leg before she can actually move.

“Armin—s-stop!” Her voice raises higher in octave as it cracks, yelling desperate apologies as she begins to thrash out of his grasp. Armin thinks back to earlier today when he had nursed her wounds and he touched her foot which made her reflectively kick her leg forward. _If she manages to land a kick, I’ll be nursing a broken jaw for months_ , he remembers.

Still, somehow, through Annie’s wild struggling, Armin manages to pull her body underneath his, straddling her and pinning both of his arms on either side of her head, holding her wrists in each of his hands. He’s imagined them in a position like this many times before, but—not like this. _Never_ like this.

“Annie, please!” He cries. “Listen to me!”

“No,” she says, before repeating it over and over again. _Nonononono_. “I won’t.”

Armin sighs. He wants to apologize. He wants to tell her that he enjoyed the kiss. _Please let me speak_ , he practically begs in his head. And he tries to say it to, “Please, let me-“ But Annie’s legs thrash forward underneath him again. 

“Shit,” Annie butts in, “let me go. Let me go!” Her voice is getting louder again as she becomes unable to keep her hysteria from slipping into her tone. Armin gets fucking terrified that if someone were to walk by, they’d think that he’s trying to _hurt_ her.

Wait a minute… is he hurting her?

At that thought, Armin turns pale.

“Annie, am I-“

“Shut up,” Annie shakes her head, “shut up shut up.” She sounds so desperate to _not_ hear him.

Armin swallows thickly. His mind is running a thousand miles an hour. “Wha-“

“Please,” Annie interrupts, but her voice has shrunk completely now into a tiny ghost of a whimper. “Please Armin, let me go,” she murmurs—her voice barely a whisper. The plea slips past her lips quietly, but Armin can still hear the lingering panic in her tone.

The boy inhales slowly, hesitant and scared that if he does let her go, she’d bolt away again because Armin frankly doesn’t have the energy to try and keep up with her again and something tells him that there won’t be a cat to save him this time. But when Annie’s head lolls to the side, blue eyes shining with tears and blonde locks splaying out against the grass, Armin holds his breath and slowly falls off of her.

He sits to her side as she scrambles to sit up—a bit more hurriedly that Armin would like. She looks at him, then away quickly, embarrassed and ashamed.

“Listen-“

“No,” Annie butts in again. Armin huffs. This is getting annoying. “N-No, just…”

Armin's mind is racing again. A million thoughts fly through his mind.

“Please,” he begs, so tired and desperate. Annie stiffens when she hears his tone, turns away, but then finally, says…

  
  
  
  
  


Annie stiffens when she hears his tone. She turns away. Her mind is chaos.

_Don’t prolong the inevitable._

_But I-_

_Let it end here._

_Wait-_

_Spare the poor boy._

_I just-_

**_Give it up. Stop fighting for a lost cause_ ** _._

Annie inhales slowly. This… is going to be the end of their friendship. Because she fucked it up. Because she _always_ fucks it up.

So she lets go of trying to fight it, and finally says, “fine. I’ll listen.”

  
  
  
  


“Fine. I’ll listen.”

Armin practically gasps in relief. _Finally._ Annie blesses him with the privilege to speak!

But now that she’s actually listening to him and he _knows_ that she’s actually listening to him, his mind falls into complete chaos. His thoughts wreak havoc in his brain, a million thoughts fighting to be at the forefront of his mind.

_Tell her you love her._

_Tell her you're sorry._

_Tell her_ **_everything_ ** _._

“Annie,” he begins slowly, “I-I’m—“ _so, so sorry._

“Just—“ _hear me out,_ **_please_ ** _._

“You—“ _need to hear me when I say_

“—that I—“ _love you. I love_

“—you—“ _so much. And I_

“—need—“ _you in my life_

“—forever.”

“What are you saying?” Annie hisses, blue eyes wide in complete horror.

Armin gulps.

 _What do_ “—you expect—“ _from_ _someone_ “—like me?”

 _Tell me,_ “—what are your—“ _expectations._

“Armin!” Annie bites. “Speak normally! Are you having a stroke?” She sounds both irate and confused now.

Armin gulps again. Then, “sorry,” he blurts.

Annie sighs. And then she climbs to her feet. Armin scrambles to stand up, ready if she tries to dart away again, but Annie simply shakes her head and looks away. “Shit,” she mutters under her breath as tears start slipping down her cheek. “Okay, look...” She turns to face him, voice tight and lip trembling.

Armin nods. There’s nothing else he can really do but nod.

“I-I’m sorry, about—fuck—you know. It was a mistake. It didn’t mean anything. I don’t,” she pauses and takes a deep breath, voice wavering with her tears, “I don’t love you, Armin.”

And just like that, Armin starts to fall apart.

“Just forget—forget what I did. Please, I-I-“ Annie gasps when her voice comes out shaking as she cries.

“But I want—“ _you to know that I love you and I always have._

“You want what?” Annie spits. She rubs furiously at the tears on her face.

“N-No,” Armin begins, shaking his head at an attempt to start a new sentence. “You—“ _are my everything. And I’m glad I love you._

But he decides that he doesn’t want to say that, because that’s too much, so instead he thinks,

 _It_ “—took—“ _so long, but now I get to finally say it_.

But again, he scratches that—that’s _stupid_. So instead he goes,

“My—“ _life is so much better with you. And I’m glad that you were my_

“—first kiss in high school.”

There.

Perfect.

He… finally said it.

_Right?_

He shuts his eyes, inhales, but when he opens them he is met with the sight of a horrified Annie Leonhardt, and his heart sinks fifty meters into his stomach. 

“What did you just say?” Annie snaps—she spits out this question like venom. 

“I…” Turquoise orbs dart around their dark surroundings nervously as a thick swallow flows down Armin’s throat. Fuck, what did he say? No, what did he _really say?_ “I don’t know.”

Annie takes a nervous step back. She blinks. “Y-You-“

“Wait, listen to me first,” Armin begins.

“No!” Annie snaps. “I already listened and y-you… you…” 

Armin blanches. “Wait, I’m sorry-“

“I took your _first kiss_ ?” Annie repeats incredulously. “That’s what you’re upset about? What, were you planning on giving that to someone _else_ ? To your _crush_ , maybe?”

“Annie, you’re—“ _my crush. I’m_

“—in love with—“ _you-_

“SHUT UP!” Annie snaps, and Armin flinches at her sudden shift in volume. He mentally recoils. Annie takes a wobbly step back and clears her throat, lowering her voice when she says, “I don’t love anyone.”

“No I didn’t—“ _mean that_ **_you_ ** _were the one in love, I meant_ **_me_ ** _. I didn’t_

“—think it was—“ _possible for me to fall this hard for you, but I did. Maybe it’s not_

“—such a big deal—“ _but I still love you._

Annie shakes her head, tears rushing down her cheeks. “Go… Go away, Armin.”

Armin gapes at her. “What?”

“I said go _away,_ ” she snaps. “Go back to Marlo’s house.”

“What about you?” He asks.

“I’m just… I don’t want to be…” She sighs and shakes her head. “I’ll go later.”

Armin feels ice-cold water in his veins. “Do you want me to-“

“ _No,_ ” Annie shakes her head, “I want to be alone.”

Armin nods slowly. “Oh… okay. Uhm… alright.” Unsure of what else to say, Armin slowly stalks back down the path they came upon, looking over his shoulder every few seconds to watch Annie’s figure become more distant as he continues to walk. Each step he takes feels heavy—his _heart_ feels heavy. He wishes he felt numb again. He feels like he’s going to puke.

And when he rounds a corner, he does just that—purges all of his meals for the day on the side of the path before leaning weakly against the tree.

 _Fuck_ , he thinks.

  
  
  
  
  


Annie watches Armin retreat back with a thick throat. Her body squirms with unease, her mind spinning and gaze blurry. She grits her teeth and hisses in a sharp breath of pain as discomfort shoots through her injuries again.

_It’s over. It’s over._

_Shut up._

_You did this._

_I know._

_You’re a piece of shit._

_I know._

_Are you happy now?_

_… no_

_Good._

_Bad people aren’t meant to feel happiness._

And with that final thought, Annie collapses to her knees again and sobs.

* * *

Through a haze of numbness, Armin drags himself back to Marlo’s house. Although he does lose his way a couple of times, he manages to make it back. His body feels weak—his heart beats with emptiness. Each pump of blood through his veins feels languid and useless, and he wishes he felt numb again.

When he stumbles into the house, the hallway is dark and he trips over several shoes by the entryway before finally making it to the living room. Here, he sees everyone passed out on the couch, and he immediately envies Hitch and Marlo cuddling together, wishing he had what they have.

But he quickly refocuses on the task at hand: _leaving._ He’s not sure his emotional state can withstand staying here any longer. He can’t possibly go to sleep and he runs the risk of bumping into Annie if he’s idle for longer than necessary. He _needs_ to get out of here.

“Jean.” Armin shakes his roommate who is very much asleep. “Jean, wake up.”

The sleeping male groans and turns over on where he rests on the couch, grumbling something that Armin can’t quite decipher.

“Jean. _Wake_ _up_ , dammit,” Armin bites.

“Mmn, what?” Jean groans, finally turning over again to look at Armin through half-lidded eyes. “I have a fucking—“ — _hiccup—_ “—I think I have a hangover. Let me sleep.”

“We have to go home,” Armin snaps hurriedly. He hopes that he manages to drag Jean and Marco out of the door before Annie arrives, though something tells him that she most likely isn’t coming back anytime soon. Still, Armin feels himself rushing.

“Don’t wanna,” Jean grumbles. “Go and... and sleep next to your girlfriend.”

Armin blushes. “She’s _not_ my—ugh, just fucking _get up already!_ ” He cries, a bit louder than he meant to. He instantly freezes when he hears a shuffle in the room, blue eyes quickly darting over to Mina who shifts on the couch. He waits a bit longer, hoping that he didn’t rouse her, until Mina settles back against the cushion. The soft snoring filling the quiet space instantly lets him know that no one, thankfully, has woken up yet.

“Why?” Jean drawls petulantly like a whiny kid being awoken for school. “You go, I want to sleep.”

“I can’t leave you here, we came as a carpool,” Armin huffs.

“Mmn,” Jean groans again, turning over onto his side and closing his eyes.

“Jean-“

“I’m still awake!” Jean’s groggy voice says. He sighs, but then braces himself in his elbow and turns to Armin again. “J-Just… go by yourself. I’ll get a ride tomorrow.”

Armin frowns. “Are you sure?”

Jean nods. “Yeah, whatever. Here,” he fishes out his keys from his pocket and drops them on the floor, “now let me sleep.”

Armin casts his roommate a wary glance before grabbing the keys and rising to his feet from where he sat on his haunches by the couch. He makes sure to grab his belongings—his phone and wallet—before slipping on his shoes and walking out the door.

Despair clenches his heart, sending a wave of unbidden tears forming in cerulean orbs, but Armin blinks them away before he sheds them as he surges onward down the driveway.

_Is this… it?_

Somehow, it doesn’t feel like it is, and Armin finds himself desperately hoping that it won’t be. This is just a mistake that they’ll get over, right? Just another slump in his and Annie’s friendship that they’ll overcome.

Armin sets his hopes on that, because he doesn’t know what else to believe in.

 _Or maybe I can catch her…?_ he thinks slowly. Maybe he could go back to the park and find Annie and tell her that-

 _No,_ he thinks sharply. _No, shit, no. See where that got you last time?_

His heart clenches. _Don’t be an idiot, Arlert._

He walks defeatedly back to his car. _Don’t be an idiot, Arlert._

He gets into the driver’s seat and buckles up. _Don’t be an idiot, Arlert._

He turns the car on and feels the familiar hum on the engine underneath his feet. _Don’t be an idiot, Arlert._

But then before he drives, he glances at the backseat and sees it.

A gift bag.

There’s a tag on it with handwriting. _From: Armin. To: Annie._

He already knows it’s contents; a card and a gift he had chosen for Annie especially today. His final goodbye to these forsaken feelings, right?

Hah.

What a joke.

_Or maybe…_

_…it’s not too late._

* * *

Annie goes back to the park. She sits on the swing, idle, her chest shuddering from the aftershocks of her sobbing. Her hands grip the cold, _cold_ chain of the swing, staring down into her lap, and she also lights on the smears of dirt on the fabric there, marring the white dress’s pretty appearance. Hitch is going to _kill her_ for fucking up her dress.

Actually… speaking of Hitch…

She should get back. Soon, maybe? Later doesn’t seem like a good idea. Not while it’s still 10pm (11pm maybe?) and she still feels shaken. She’s basically begging to get kidnapped, isn’t she? Sitting on a swing set in a park at night, clad in nothing but a white dress. If maybe Annie had darker, longer hair (like Mikasa’s, maybe, but much longer) she might look like one of those grudge girls from those scary movies.

She sighs and leans back a bit. The swing sways with her. Her body feels hollow, like a husk.

It’s… weird. The way her mind feels as though it’s in shambles, and she _knows_ why it’s in shambles, yet she still won’t… face it. Won’t even think about it. Won’t even _label_ it as a ki-

You know what she means.

She feels weirdly… excited. Well, not excited but more like… her bones feel like they’re on fire. She feels like she’s ready to fight an entire regiment of trained military men, in spite of the fact that she currently can’t stand without wobbling a bit on her feet.

 _Disconcerted,_ she decides. _I feel disconcerted._

But that only feels like she’s scratching the surface of all the emotions flying through her mind right now. Regardless, she lets go of trying to identify it and sighs. She leans forward this time. The swing sways again. How long has it been since she’s blinked?

Her lips feel kind of tingly, actually. Kind of similar to the fire in her bones right now. But everything feels a bit… superficial. Like…

…she doesn’t know.

She feels weird.

(She never realizes it, but she feels weird because her heart _isn’t_ reacting for once. It’s not lurching. It’s not climbing up into her throat. It doesn’t even feel like it’s beating anymore. It just… froze. Crystallized.)

The breeze around her starts to kick up right about now. She lifts her feet off the ground and lets it slightly carry her. She’s floating. Floating away from reality as things become too much. She’s done this before—when reality is too overbearing, she’ll just… drift away. (Not physically, though it would be nice to fly…)

But it’s only a matter of time before the breeze will stop and she’ll plummet to the ground, she knows. And this is the thing with her—it’s like when you’ve zoned out and you noticed that you zoned out, but you don’t zone back in. Not yet, at least. You just enjoy not thinking for a moment.

This is what’s happening right now.

She knows that she can only fly for so long.

 _The wind can only take you so far, Annie. Make sure you’re prepared for when it’s not here to carry you away anymore._ She tells this partially to herself, but then again—she’s not listening. She’s not here. She’s…

…avoiding everything.

For now.

* * *

As it turns out, you can only avoid something for so long. Annie is used to floating away and having something root her back to reality—the call of her name, a bump against her shoulder, and things like that. But what happens now is much, _much_ more subtle, yet still consequential nonetheless.

A rustle from beside her.

She momentarily forgets about the dangers of the world—about the fact that she should probably be terrified about the fact that it could be some random ass perv with a random ass weapon (or something)—and curiously peers over to the shift of movement. Something rustles within the patch of bushes again, when finally, something emerges.

A… cat.

A _calico_ cat, Annie quickly realizes.

The cat that made her _trip_ earlier. She recognizes it quickly, and this— _this_ —is the thing that makes the wind carrying her falter. She feels the breeze slow, drift away from her almost, before it’s gone from underneath her feet. Mentally, she plummets back to earth, and finally— _finally!_ —processes what just happened.

A gasp is the first thing that escapes her, successfully startling the cat and making it skitter back into the bushes. Her body trembles a bit as she feels the muscles in her face contort into something unseemly. She may be frowning, but she still feels out of touch with her senses so she isn’t completely sure.

And then, a tiny, “ _shit._ ”

_Armin._

_Yeah._

_He… tried to say something._

_Tried to reason with you._

_I pushed him away…_

_You did._

_What was he really trying to say?_

_Something you didn’t let him get out._

_He was so flustered…_

_He was furious with you._

_I should’ve told him I’m sorry._

_You should’ve never done that to him._

_I could’ve told him about my feelings._

_You should’ve never don’t that to him._

_I should have explained it more properly._

_You should’ve-_

_I should have-_

_Kiss._

The word comes into her mind, unbidden. _Kiss._ First, it’s fleeting and gone in a second. Then, it returns. _Kiss—Kiss—Kiss!_ It’s screaming. Annie feels like screaming too. _Kiss—kiss—kiss!_ Her head lowers, burrowing into her hands as her face flushes and tears form in her eyes. _Kiss. Kiss. Kiss._

“I kissed Armin,” she finally admits into the open air, silently and to herself. She expects a mantle to lift from her shoulders— _you finally admitted it! Great! Wait ‘til father hears!_ What happens instead is that a heavier, much more dreadful weight settles on her shoulders.

And then, after this, she thinks, _things will never be the same again._

And she is completely right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am genuinely so sorry about this


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **slight warning for:** panic attacks, and honestly just how painful this chapter is going to be

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> is it time for me to include another wet dream? it’s time for me to include another wet dream
> 
> i’d warn you and say that this chapter is pretty nsfw but at this point you shouldn’t even be surprised haha

On March 25th, spring break at Armin and Annie’s college comes to an end and classes dreadfully start again.

Armin wakes up snug underneath his duvet to the sound of his phone alarm at the ripe hour of 6:02am. He relents from throwing his handheld across the room to shut up the incessant noise and instead settles on pressing the _dismiss_ button, his blue eyes slowly peeling open one by one to stare up at the ceiling. A long and tired groan escapes the blond before he eventually climbs out of bed, gets ready for class, and then leaves his apartment with a cup of black coffee.

Having gotten adjusted to his spring break sleeping schedule which consisted purely of going to bed at 12am and _actually_ falling asleep at 3am after some mandatory overthinking has done him no favors this morning, because now he plows through the morning running on a solid 3 hours of sleep and some bitter coffee.

He hasn’t gotten a good night's sleep since Friday when the… _event_ transpired.

Even now, as he trudges to his car through the cold early-morning air, it’s all he can think about—Annie, Annie, Annie. How is she doing? Better than him, hopefully. Her classes don’t start until 10am, so she must be asleep right now. Armin hums softly at the thought of a sleeping Annie, expression all peaceful save for the little furrow in her brows because apparently she even _sleeps_ with a resting bitch face.

He drives to school thinking (read: _worrying_ ) about Annie. They haven’t spoken since that night, their last conversation having ended in tears and yelling, and even though Armin tries to cling tightly to that tiny thread of hope telling him that it’ll be okay— _it’ll all be okay, you’ll see_ —he still knows better. The longer they go without speaking, the more his optimism drains.

(On Saturday and Sunday, Armin kept opening Annie’s contact, expecting to see a message there. _Hey,_ it’d say. Or maybe, _I think we should talk._ Or, everybody’s absolute favorite, _I don’t think we should be friends anymore._

Alas, he received no such thing, both much to his dismay and relief.)

Today, Armin isn’t so sure if he’s going to be alright.

Sure, he managed to make it through the weekend, but only because he wasn’t expected to do anything. He awoke those days and stayed in bed for hours before eventually dragging himself to the kitchen to eat some food, only to retreat to his room again to never leave for the rest of the day. He spent the entirety of Saturday crying, and Sunday was spent _terrifically_ by drinking his sorrows away.

He tries to instill himself with hope, but he knows it’s false, and so he’s here, at his college campus at 7:14am, walking to his class with nothing but dread looming overhead.

He manages to successfully make it through his first class, though he found himself zoning out half the time and in the end needed to ask the person sitting closest to him for a copy of their notes (she said yes, thankfully).

During the ten minutes of spare time he has between his first and second class, he heads to one of the lousy food stalls set up around campus and orders more black coffee, hoping he’ll stay awake for the rest of the day. But alas, his efforts from drinking two cups of bitter ( _very_ bitter) coffee to stay awake are proven futile when he walks into a lecture hall for his third class and can barely keep his eyelids open.

He thinks about Annie a lot—more than he’d like to admit—and as his eyes flit to the clock hanging on the wall, watching the time draw steadily closer to 12pm, he can’t help the nervousness that spikes through his body.

Should he see Annie?

How is she, actually?

No—really.

Is she faring better than him?

Armin thinks back to Friday, at how Annie has been so visceral that night. _‘Go away Armin,’_ she had said. _‘Go away!’_

 _Stop it,_ he chastises his mind, trying not to think about it.

 _‘I don’t love anyone,’_ the memories keep flashing through his mind. ‘ _It was a mistake. I don’t love you, Armin.’_

“Shut _up_ ,” Armin bites back, accidentally out loud. He quickly snaps his mouth shut and turns to look over at a dude sitting beside him who gives him a questioning side-eye.

Armin mouths something akin to an apology before turning his eyes back to the front, though his mind continues to drift further than he’d like. 

He props his head up with his fist and tries—he _really_ tries—to pay attention, but five minutes drift by and he already starts to feel his head nod before he thinks, _Ah fuck it,_ and gives up completely. He slumps forward, tugging the sleeves of his shirt down and pillowing his head on his folded arms, watching as the guy beside him spares him another confused look while his eyes slip closed.

  
  
  


And then he is dreaming.

He knows he’s dreaming.

Armin has always been able to lucid dream. He can always feel the very moment his consciousness chips away before he’s asleep, switched from reality to dreamland, and today fairs no different. Hell—he practically felt the very moment he transitioned into sleep when the prattling of the professor faded out and the empty lecture hall faded in.

Wait… lecture hall?

Armin lifts his head up to find that he’s still in the same room. Except… he isn’t. Well… he’s _dreaming_ it. This is a dream. _This is a dream,_ he tells himself, because he knows it is.

He sits upright, blue eyes floating around the room before settling on the only other person in here with him.

And then his eyes go wide.

“ _Really?_ ” asks Annie from where she stands at the front of the room, leaning against the teacher’s podium. Her blue eyes drift down to give herself a slow look over before her lips twitch down into a frown. “ _You couldn’t have given me more covering?_ ”

Armin just shrugs, following her lowered gaze to take in the sight of her outfit—it’s _his_ sweater that she had worn that night on the camping trip, and the short shorts Hitch had lent her which disappear completely underneath his baggy sweater. He knew that the yellow apparel had been a bit big on him, so it’s no surprise that it ends at her thighs, swallowing up her shorts completely.

“ _And where are my shoes?_ ”

“ _You’re lucky I gave you anything at all,_ ” Armin murmurs, because in his dream he has no filter—there’s nothing holding him back. Still, though, he feels a flush of embarrassment come over his face and he quickly ducks his head.

“ _Why?_ ” Annie snorts. “ _Do you plan on making me strip?_ ”

Armin feels his face flood a deeper shade of red. “ _N-No,_ ” he blurts, but he’s lying.

“ _Did you forget where you fell asleep?_ ” asks Annie, making Armin stiffen. He slowly raises his head from staring at his lap to instead regard Annie as she slowly stalks forward on bare feet, like a lioness approaching her prey. She treads up the steps to his seat tauntingly slow, a sly smirk creeping over her lips and curling into her cheeks as she closes the space between them.

“ _You’re still in class, you know,_ ” she murmurs. “ _What’ll you do if you pop a boner from this dream?_ ”

Armin swallows thickly. “ _I don’t care,_ ” he croaks out, his mouth suddenly dry.

Annie snorts. “ _What happened to the Arlert I usually know? The guy who always thinks ahead, who doesn’t take risks._ ”

“ _I’m still him,_ ” Armin says, though his words come out breathlessly as Annie continues to stalk forward.

“ _Hm? Really?_ ” Annie stops a few paces away from him. “ _I’ve never seen you look at me like,_ ” she gestures with a vague arm wave in Armin’s direction, “that _before._ ”

“ _Like what?_ ”

“ _Like you want to devour me._ ”

Armin's heart climbs high up into his throat as the air suddenly becomes hot and stifling between them. He swears his hair is about to light on fire.

“ _You know you can breathe, right?_ ” She taunts as she resumes her gait towards him. “ _This is a dream. You can do whatever you want._ ”

And as if that’s all he needed to let go of his inhibitions, Armin sucks in a sharp breath and, in a low and almost pleading tone, commands, “ _come here._ ”

Annie obliges without another word said—closes the distance between them with a few long strides and then she’s right in front of his desk. Armin reaches out a trembling, unsteady hand, and Annie reciprocates his action until their hands are pressed together. Her palms are calloused and rough, but still delicate and small against his. She slots her fingers through his and Armin hesitates first a moment before, eventually, knotting their fingers together completely.

“ _This is nice,_ ” Annie hums absently. “ _But it’d be nicer if we were doing something else._ ”

Armin blinks up at her. It’s foreign, her being taller than him, but this is only because he’s sitting. “ _Like what?_ ” He asks. (He knows exactly what.)

Annie smirks and slips her hand from his grasp, placing her palms on his desk to hoist herself up. She sits on it, then swivels around so that they’re facing each other. She scoots closer and Armin can only watch, rapt as Annie’s bare feet come in contact with his thighs.

Armin shivers as she leans forward. They’re so close—so _fucking_ close now.

He can’t help but wonder that maybe this dream is a gift from the Gods. After days of suffering, he’s been blessed with this masterpiece of a dream, though it could have come at a better time, he’ll admit.

But still, he’s not going to waste this.

It’s been so long— _too fucking long_.

This girl upon him is beautiful and gorgeous—the woman of his dreams, both literally and figuratively. And he misses her—he misses her _so much_. Armin has to suppress himself from whimpering at how desperately hopeless he is because—fuck—he really is still in love with her, isn’t he?

A hesitant hand lifts to cup Annie’s face, holding her so that she immediately leans into Armin’s touch. He shifts and threads his fingers through her flaxen locks, trailing his hand further back into its at the base of her neck. Annie gives him an expectant look and Armin doesn’t pause or hesitate because it’s been so long and he’d be an idiot—a complete buffoon—if he so much as shows the slightest bit of reluctance right now. He tugs her head forward, letting his eyes flutter shut as he crashes their lips together.

Unlike Friday’s, this kiss is desperate and needy. Friday’s was bare, lasting a total of what felt like three (maybe five?) seconds, but today Armin and Annie’s lips move quickly with the other’s.

Annie gasps almost as if she’s drowning and the kiss is overbearing, but it’s _her_ who plunks herself forward to sit on Armin’s lap, and it’s _her hands_ that feverishly rake up his shirt to grope at whatever exposed skin she can find. Armin tugs gently on Annie’s head, not willing to let her go this time—not willing to lose her—and Annie doesn’t pull away.

“ _Armin,_ ” she moans into his mouth, like a prayer—like a promise. Armin responds with a groan as he swallows down her moan and slips a tongue into her mouth.

“ _Annie—Annie—_ “ he groans continuously, his hands and thoughts running rampant, desperate. Nothing seems to be enough. Armin slips his hands underneath her sturdy thighs, hoisting her up as he raises up from the seat. He slams her onto the desk and Annie makes a surprised, but not uncomfortable sound in response. They separate to breathe, her eyes dazedly half-lidded and tongue pillowed against her bottom lip.

“ _Shit,_ ” Armin drawls, gripping her thighs harder, his nails nearly sinking into her milky skin. He keeps touching her—keeps groping her—until his hands are underneath her ( _his_ ) sweater and on her finely tuned torso, almost as if he were searching for something on her skin. “ _Shit—shit,_ ” he repeats, his stomach churning and heart pumping a mile a minute.

“ _C’mere,_ ” Annie says, and Armin doesn’t skip a beat. Their tongues are soon battling for dominance and their hands are immediately on each other’s bodies as if they can’t get enough of each other.

Annie rocks her hips up to meet his, grinding against the beginnings of an erection which he’s started to nurse in his jeans, and Armin instantly groans in response. 

‘ _It was a mistake.’_

_‘Go away.’_

_‘Go away, Armin!’_

_‘I don’t love you.’_

Armin shakes his head, trying to jerk those thoughts away. But they stay, lingering, aimlessly floating around in his mind as if their only purpose in this universe is to torment him.

He dives forward, ungraciously deepening the kiss as if that’ll make these thoughts disappear.

They don’t.

“ _Hah—_ “ Annie gasps when they separate, “ _l-lively today, aren’t we?_ ”

Armin just gives a brief nod in response before jerking his head down to trail kisses down Annie’s neck, leaving red blossoming in a trail down her jawline to the dip of her clavicle. He pushes her sweatshirt up, exposing her naked torso and some slight under boob (Christ, is she not wearing a bra?) before he lowers to her collarbone again. 

_‘It was a mistake.’_

Armin bites down _hard_ on Annie’s clavicle and she moans, light and breathlessly in response.

‘ _Go away.’_

He grabs her thighs and guides them to his waist, prompting her to wrap her legs around his hips, which she does happily without reluctance.

‘ _Go away, Armin!’_

Armin rocks forward, trying to fill the gaping hole in his heart with contact against Annie’s body—trying to forget his sorrows if only just for a little while.

_‘I’m sorry…’_

“ _There!_ ” Annie gasps breathlessly when he shifts the direction of his hips to hit her at a new angle. She immediately grinds her own hips down to meet his movements, desperate for more friction. 

_‘I don’t love anyone, Armin…_ ’

Armin chokes back a sob. He doesn’t want to remember. _I don’t want to remember._

_‘I don’t love you, Armin…’_

“ _Shit._ ” Armin chokes around the word, making it come out garbled and like a groan. His hips come to a stuttering stop and Annie slowly stops her own movements as well, her head lolling back to rest against the desk with her breaths coming out thick and heavy.

“ _Now what?_ ” She asks, her dazed gaze fixed on nothing in particular. “ _You gonna fuck me over this desk?_ ”

Armin shakes his head. “ _No…_ ”

“ _Hm._ ” She doesn’t say anything else.

Armin's hands drift absentmindedly over her skin, over her toned legs, less frantic than before but still almost as if he were searching for something.

There’s something odd about the way she feels.

And then it clicks.

Even though Armin knows what Annie’s legs look like (maybe a bit _too_ well), the softness of it isn’t something drawn straight from memory. He’s never had his actual hands on her—he’s never kissed her like this before, never touched or groped or done _anything_ like this before with her. This is all his imagination. No matter how much he tries, no amount of fantasizing will grant him the blessing of knowing the actual feel of the thighs dimpling beneath his fingers, the give, the tension of perfect skin wrapping well-trained muscle.

This _isn’t_ his Annie.

“ _It’s not—_ “ his voice cracks ( _pathetic,_ his mind chides), but he tries again by licking his lips before rasping out, “ _it’s not_ real _._ ”

Annie cocks a brow. “ _No shit, Sherlock. This is a dream._ ”

Armin swallows thickly and lowers his gaze in defeat, a strange pang of hurt plunging straight through his chest. He knew it wasn’t real—he knows he’s just dreaming. But… why does it still hurt?

“ _Don’t tell me,_ ” she begins, “ _you thought you’d actually get to experience something like this with Annie?_ ”

Armin blinks slowly. “ _But… you_ are _Annie._ ”

“ _No, Armin._ ” Her legs unhook from around his waist as she scoots back to sit up on the desk. She smiles pitifully at him, the grin twisted and _wrong_ on her face—misplaced. “ _I’m not her._ ”

Armin shakes his head. Fuck it. “ _Does it even matter?_ ” He groans.

She shrugs. “ _Do you_ want _it to?_ ”

Armin sighs. “ _I don’t… know._ ”

“ _Then what_ do _you want?_ ”

Armin stiffens. “ _Why me?_ ”

“ _What?_ ”

“ _Why_ me _?_ ” He asks again, finally meeting her gaze. “ _Why is it, what do_ I _want? What about_ you _? What do_ you _want me to do?_ ”

Annie (not Annie?) shakes her head. “ _What I want doesn’t matter. It’s_ your _dream. You set the rules._ ”

Armin shudders and immediately pulls away, a thick lump forming in his throat. “ _No._ ”

“ _No… what?_ ”

“ _The Annie I know…_ ” he begins slowly, “ _she cares about herself. She wouldn’t just do what I’d want to do. And she’d be less…_ ” he gestures vaguely with his arms, “ _obedient. She’d want control._ ”

“ _Is that what you want, then?_ ” Annie hops down from the desk when Armin takes an unsteady step back. “ _Do you want_ me _to dominate you?_ ”

“ _No!_ ” Armin cries, because this is his dream, and he has no filter—there’s nothing holding his hysteria back. “ _I don’t want you to just do whatever I want. I just want… I want…_ ” he looks down and squeezes his eyes shut as the world spins around him.

“ _What do you want?_ ” Annie asks like she’s right next to his ear, her voice everywhere and nowhere all at once. 

“ _I want…_ ” he licks his dry lips, “ _I want_ Annie _._ ”

There is silence.

And he realizes that he can dream and fantasize all he wants, but he doesn’t want to be God—he doesn’t want control over everything. He wants Annie—the _real_ Annie—the kind of selfish and hardly laughs and sarcastic Annie.

He doesn’t want to live a lie.

He wants Annie Leonhardt.

And then there is a sigh from right beside his ear.

“ _But you can’t have me, you know that, right?_ ”

Armin slowly opens his eyes to look at the figure upon him. There are tears swimming in his eyes now, blurring the world around him, and he can hardly see or think straight.

“ _Why—_ “ he chokes around a sob, “ _why_ not _?_ ”

She offers him a sympathetic smile. “ _Because I don’t love you, Armin._ ”

  
  
  


“Dude.”

Armin jolts vigorously, shaking his desk and making his pens and pencils clatter to the ground. He awakes with a dramatic gasp, jerking bolt upright and gripping the edges of the chipped wood as his eyes slowly regain focus.

”Uhm, you alright?”

Armin startles so violently that he’s sure he nearly jumped out of his own seat. He turns to face the voice to see the guy sitting beside him give him an odd look, almost as if Armin were an alien, and Armin quickly realizes that, oh yeah, _he had a fucking wet dream in the middle of class_.

“Y-Yeah,” Armin murmurs, though now he’s become painfully aware of how hard he is beneath his desk.

The guy blinks, his confused expression everlasting, before he finally asks, “c-can I borrow a pen?”

Armin nods jerkily, searching atop his desk for his pen, only to realize that it had clattered onto the ground. With a grimace, he leans forward, trying to angle his hips so that his erection doesn’t brush up against anything lest he fucking comes in his pants as he swipes his pen up. He shoves it in the guy’s direction, and he says a murmured thank you in a response which Armin just barely catches.

He squeaks out an incoherent reply before shoving all of his shit haphazardly into his backpack and shouldering it, ready to get _the fuck_ out of here.

“Wait, you’re leaving?” The guy whispers, not wanting to be too loud and disturb the ongoing lecture. “What should I do with-“

“Keep it,” Armin groans, shoving his hands into his pockets in a vain attempt to cover his boner as he dashes straight out of the lecture hall. The friction of his jeans against his crotch is honestly doing him no favors as he tears into the nearest bathroom, slamming closed one of the vacant stall doors before dropping his bag and fumbling with the zipper to his pants.

With his dream fresh in his mind, it’s easy to relieve himself, though it’s hard to block out the negatives. He tries to remember the dazed look in Annie’s eyes, recalling the gasps and moans she had given him to each and every one of his actions with her. He remembers her pleas (“ _there!_ ”) and her cries, the way she had asked, “ _are you gonna fuck me over this desk?_ ”

“Yes—!” He groans underneath his breath. _Yes right here right now I’ll fuck you right now shit—_

(He’s a hypocrite and he knows it.)

He imagines going further than the awkward dry humping they had done in his dream—imagines them doing things that entail them having to take their pants off to proceed further. 

_There—there!_ The Annie in his fantasy screams.

 _‘I don’t love you, Armin,’_ Annie—the _real_ Annie—tells him.

 _Shit—k-keep going—hah—fuck,_ the Annie in his fantasy begs.

 _‘It was a mistake,’_ the real Annie says, tears trailing down her cheeks.

 _A-Armin—_ Fantasy Annie cries.

 _‘Go away,’_ Real Annie says.

 _I love you,_ Fantasy Annie sobs into his mouth as they kiss feverishly.

 _‘I don’t love you, Armin,’_ Real Annie murmurs.

“I love you— _mmn_ —t-too,” Armin groans as he practically fucks his fist, pointedly ignoring the real Annie.

 _‘I don’t love you, Armin,’_ he keeps hearing.

“Sssshut _up_ ,” Armin bites, shaking his head.

_‘I don’t love you, Armin.’_

_‘I don’t love you, Armin.’_

_‘I don’t love you, Armin.’_

He comes.

His hips stutter as he finishes, a feeling of relief from the orgasm rippling through him as he catches his bottom lip between his teeth silence his groans.

And then he’s crashing back down to Earth, reality screeching back to him as tears squeeze their way out his eyes. His hips finally still and his palms are up on his face, wiping away the tears as the tension flows out from his body, leaving his limbs oddly heavy and body leaden.

Armin sags against the wall and exhales, long and exasperatedly as guilt settles heavily in the center of his chest.

And then—

“.....after the game, if he agrees. But he also has classes the next day, and my roommate hates it when I come home late. Maybe we should….”

—voices!

Armin scrambles to clean himself up. He hadn’t realized that people had entered the bathroom and started talking, though now he can hear their conversation loud and clear without his blinding arousal clouding his brain, and he realizes that he needs to get the _fuck_ out of here.

He grabs the coarse toilet paper, grimacing as he wipes his hand (and his cock, and the tiled floor, and— Jesus, on the stall door _too_?) clean of any residue. With a (disgusting) wet plop, the tissue falls into the toilet, and Armin stomps down on the metal level with his foot, flushing it with a wince before tugging his pants back on and shouldering his backpack again.

“.....yeah, yeah. That’s a good idea,” he hears the other guy in the bathroom agree to something, their voices gradually fading. Armin waits, listening as the sink turns on, runs for a few seconds before there’s the sound of paper towels being ripped from the cheap plastic paper towel dispenser and then the door swinging open and then retreating footsteps and then—

—silence.

He’s alone. With his shame and dread, Armin is alone again.

He opens the stall door and leaves, washing his hands quickly before shuffling out of the restroom.

(With a quick glance to his phone, he realizes that he missed the entirety of his third class, but he finds himself caring less than he should.)

As he treads through the campus, he can’t help feeling ashamed. Empty. And just so _terribly_ confused.

He passes by the courtyard, finding a few students littering the yard, and his eyes scan around the area before settling on-

His heart sinks.

 _Annie_.

She’s doing that thing where she walks behind a throng of people almost as if she’s trying to hide in the group, following the crowd into one of the buildings. Armin can’t help the fact that his legs don’t seem to want to move anyone as he watches her walk to her next class, almost as if he were paralyzed at the sight of her. She hovers close to the edge of the yard before turning a corner and entering one of the buildings.

He physically hasn’t seen her in days, and seeing her now leaves him with an odd feeling. His stomach flips, his heart climbs into his throat, and it’s as though seeing her exacerbates his melancholy.

He has to physically refrain from instinctually going to her. His body jerks forward, but he stutters and backpedals before he does anything he’ll regret.

_‘I don’t love you, Armin.’_

Armin sighs and closes his eyes, turning his head away with a frown.

He’s not going to lie—the sight of her honestly annoys him. But just a little bit! It’s not like he _hates_ her with a passion or anything. He’s just… irritated. And sad. And tired. And _so_ terribly confused.

Has he been running a circle? No, wait, that’s wrong—what he _should_ be wondering is; have _they_ been running in a circle? Their relationship keeps on teetering between being perfectly fine, to bordering on shattering into a million pieces. This is, to put if frankly, unhealthy.

 _It’s toxic,_ a voice—a logical one—says in Armin’s head.

He tries to block it out and stuff it down, trying to force it to recede into the recesses of his mind, but it stays. It stays because it’s _right_.

 _I’m right,_ it says, matter-of-fairly with only a hint of aggression in its tone. But then the underlying anger becomes more prevalent, showing its ugly colors as it says, _this relationship is toxic._

“It’s _fine,_ ” Armin snaps, lying straight through his teeth. He’s glad nobody is around to hear him talking to himself.

_It is not fine. Your mental health is suffering because of it._

“No, it’s not.” Armin shakes his head and sighs. “I’m _fine._ ”

_Oh really? Is the definition of fine being moping around all day, numb and unfeeling, sad and tired all the time? Is that what your definition of fine is?_

Armin bites back an audible retort when he notices a group of students start to flood out the building next to him. He just shakes his head and sighs again.

 _This isn’t healthy, Armin,_ it says, and this time, it isn’t antagonizing or angry anymore—just pitiful. Jesus—is he gone so far in which he’s started to pity _himself?_

“Then what do you suppose I _do?_ ” He asks, when the students have successfully passed.

_You know what you have to do._

Armin doesn’t question what it means.

He _does_ know.

“I’m going to have to end this.”

* * *

When Armin eventually returns home after attending the rest of his classes, he’s surprised to find that his apartment is dark. After slotting the key into the front door and stepping into the front room, he’s confused by the fact that he can’t see a thing. He squints and blinks a few times, letting his eyes adjust to the lack of lighting as he turns to the windows which have been curtained off. Ah, that’s why. But… why did Jean close the curtains? He _never_ closes them.

Armin trudges over to the windows and pulls the curtains apart, letting light flood into the room before he swivels around to see—

“SURPRISE!”

“Shit!” Armin shrieks, jumping back only for his calf to crash harshly against the edge of the coffee table, making his knees buckle underneath him. He manages to catch himself before he lands on his ass with his hands, gripping onto the edge of the table behind him, and as the thundering of his heart fades away, the laughter of his friends fade in.

“Jesus, Armin,” Jean gasps through his laughter, unable to contain himself. “I didn’t— You just—“ his (incoherent) sentence ends up breaking off into an uncontrollable fit of chuckles.

Armin can’t be mad as much as he can be shocked, because upon him, right beside Jean, are his childhood _fucking friends._ Eren and Mikasa. Eren and Jean laugh uncontrollably, and Armin only gapes incredulously at them as Mikasa suppresses a smile.

“Why the hell…” Armin tries to regather his scattered bearings. If he wasn’t awake before, he _definitely_ is now. “Why are you _here?_ ” He doesn’t sound annoyed as much as he does just very confused.

Eren snorts. “Gee, what kind of greeting is that? No, ‘I’ve missed you,’ or anything?”

Armin swallows. “Sorry.” He pushes himself off of the table to stand on his own feet. His legs feel like jelly. “I was just… startled.”

“Yeah, we could tell,” Mikasa says, in a slightly teasing tone.

“How did— did _you_ let them in?” Armin asks his roommate, who is just now barely managing to compose himself.

Jean nods and wipes a fake tear from his eye. “Guilty,” he says.

Armin takes a wobbly step back and then slowly nods, taking time to ingest this information.

“But don’t you have school?” He asks, blond brows furrowed.

“Heh… funny story, actually,” Eren begins nervously, a sheepish smile forming on his lips as he looks away. Mikasa sighs and rolls her eyes.

“He passed all of his classes but failed one. He’s going to redo most of it online up until August. Then, he goes back,” she explains.

“Oh,” Armin says. He turns to Mikasa, “you failed too? It doesn’t seem like you to fail a class.”

“She didn’t,” Eren sighs. “And I _told_ her to stay there because it'll be easier to finish this year in-person, but she insisted on coming home with me.” He turns to narrow his emerald eyes at Mikasa, more out of irritation that she followed him rather than anger. “You should’ve stayed, you know. It’s going to be hard to do your classes online.”

Mikasa shakes her head. “I don’t want to leave your side,” she says firmly and with finality.

Armin spots Eren blush and hates the envy that he instantly feels.

“Can you guys get a room? I don’t really like watching make-out sessions happen in my living room,” Jean says with a roll of his eyes as he stalks towards the kitchen.

Eren turns to glare at Jean, grabbing the nearest throw pillow to throw it at Jean who easily ducks before it can hit him.

“What’s wrong? You don’t seem happy,” Mikasa says to Armin, and it’s not when the blond realizes that she’s been keeping a keen eye on him this whole time. _Shit._ He tries to rearrange his face into something more neutral or calm or happy or anything _else_ other than how dead he currently looks, but the muscles in his faces feel weird. He can’t feel his face anymore—doesn’t know if he’s frowning or smiling anymore at this point. He sighs.

“I am,” he says, and it’s not a lie—he’s happy to see his friends. But he’s also just… empty.

“Actually, you look kind of weird,” Eren says. He turns and steps over to Armin, squinting his eyes at the blond and observing his every feature. “You look like you’re on your deathbed with how pale your face is.”

Armin tries to say something, but before he can even speak, Jean says something from the kitchen. “Probably that girl he’s been trying to get over.”

Blue eyes blow wide.

_Fuck._

_Fuck._

_Fuckfuckfuck._

Eren and Mikasa both turn to Armin now, their gazes boring holes straight through him.

“A girl?” Eren echoes. “Annie? You still haven’t asked her out?”

Armin would very much like to crawl into a hole and die now, thank you very much.

“Annie?” It’s now Mikasa’s time to say her name. “Wait, Armin, you like her?”

“Annie?” Jean echoes. ( _STOP SAYING HER NAME,_ Armin desperately thinks.) “Wait, that girl at the pool party on Friday? _That’s_ who you like?”

Armin would allow God to smite him right now.

His cheeks feel impossibly hot, mouth agape and eyes frantically looking around the room, trying to stare at anything _but_ his friends.

“Wait— _she’s_ the reason why you look like this?” Mikasa asks, gesturing vaguely at Armin with a wave of her hand.

“You look dead,” Eren says, staring at every inch of Armin’s face as if there’s more to inspect.

“He spent the whole day yesterday drinking,” Jean decides to add as if _ANYMORE OF HIS INPUT IS NEEDED_. Armin tries to send desperate _please-shut-the-fuck-up_ in Jean’s direction, but his roommate either misses it entirely or chooses to ignore it.

“ _Drinking?_ ” Eren echoes, incredulous. “And Armin? Those two words sound foreign together.”

“What did she do?” Mikasa asks with a tiny narrow of her eyes. “Did she hurt you?”

Armin gulps and vigorously shakes his head (a bit too much—ow—now his head hurts). “N-No,” he says. It’s partially a lie. Annie didn’t… _hurt_ him, necessarily. More like, they kissed (she kissed him first, actually), and then she ran away, and then Armin tried to talk to her, and then she cried and told him to go away and said the thing that broke his heart into a million pieces.

‘ _I don’t love you, Armin.’_

“I don’t understand why you don’t just ask her out,” Eren says. “You make it seem like she’ll cry or yell at you or something—Annie is calmer than that.”

Armin winces. _Bad_ _analogy._

“You haven’t asked her out?” Mikasa asks. “You’re suffering for no reason, then.”

Armin winces again. _No, it’s not for no reason—it’s because our relationship is toxic and I know it._

“You two were getting along just fine on Friday, though,” Jean says. “She even slept on your lap. Why are you so bent out of shape over this?”

Armin grimaces at the recollection of Friday. _Please don’t make me remember._

“A party?” Mikasa questions.

Jean nods. “A birthday party for Annie. A pool party.”

“Something happened between us,” Armin blurts out, unable to contain himself. “...after you all fell asleep,” he decides to add, a bit more composed.

Jean cocks and brow and tilts his head, pulling a carton of milk out of the fridge. “Like?”

Armin sighs and lowers his gaze. “I… don’t want to talk about it.”

He practically feels all of their gazes on him now. He hates it—he wishes he were asleep and ignorant.

“Hm,” Eren starts, before, “then don’t.”

Armin raises his gaze, watching as Eren gives him a comforting smile before turning on his heel and stalking into the kitchen to join Jean as the latter pours himself a bowl of cereal. A breath of relief escapes the blond, but he knows that it’s meaningless—his friends will want to know, sometime. He can’t keep hiding like this. _I can't keep_ suffering _like this. It isn’t fair._

(It isn’t fair to both him and Annie.

Mainly him.)

 _You know what you have to do,_ the same voice from earlier returns.

Armin nods briefly to himself. He _does._

“Hey, uhm, I’m gonna be right back,” he calls out.

Eren turns to him from the kitchen after helping himself to their beer supply. “I thought your classes were over,” he says around the can close to his mouth, making it sound like a question.

“They are, but—I just—“ He’s falling apart at the seams “—I’ll be right back. I won’t take too long,” he says, swiping up his keys from where he had dropped it on the floor earlier when he had gotten scared.

Mikasa gives him a concerned look. “You alright?”

Armin nods. He smiles, genuinely, for the first time since Friday. “Peachy.” He scuttles towards the door and shuffles into a pair of slides, bidding a quick farewell to his friends before leaving his apartment.

He makes it to his car in the parking lot and climbs into the driver’s seat, reaching over to the passenger seat and opening the glovebox. There, he extracts a crumpled, blue gift bag with balloons decorating it. He grabs the tag tied around the gift bag handles, smoothing out the crumpled paper between his fingers so that the writing on it becomes decipherable.

_From: Armin. To: Annie._

“Today’s the day,” he says, mostly to himself. “I’m doing this—I’m going to do this.”

He places the bag down and unhurriedly turns on the engine, waiting to feel the hum underneath his feet before he finally murmurs to himself, “this is my final goodbye to these godforsaken feelings.”

* * *

Is she alive?

Annie stares at the tv, unsure—uncertain if she’s just a soul meandering about the earth or if she’s truly alive. She only had one class today (thank fucking God), and though at first, it seemed nice, it’s now proving to be hell.

Mina is asleep in her room after attending a 6am class, the poor unlucky soul, and Hitch won’t be home until tomorrow, most likely (she’s with Marlo). Now, there are no distractions. Nothing is trying to occupy her mind. It’s just Annie, a bucket of ice cream (her fourth since Friday), and her thoughts.

_He hates you._

_He can’t possibly._

_Armin has_ never _liked you._

_That’s not true._

_This was a long time coming._

_No, that’s-_

_He’s gone._

_He’s not._

_Armin hates you._

Annie curses an audible expletive, thankful that Mina is asleep and unable to see her go insane as she slurps the ice cream-soup down. She tugs on the blanket around her tighter, reaches for the remote in front of her criss-crossed legs on the cushion, and turns to volume up.

The show plays louder, the dialogue and action and laughter playing through the show so loud in which Annie feels like she’s there herself.

But the voice prattles on.

_You shouldn’t have done that to him._

_I didn’t mean to hurt him._

_But you still did._

_I’m not a bad person._

_What did Armin say about the term bad and good people again?_

Annie sighs aloud. “They’re subjective,” she murmurs. She agrees, really—there is no good person to everyone and no bad person to everyone. It’s impossible for someone to be convenient to a person without being inconvenient to someone else. It’s all sort of biased.

_Wouldn’t that make you a bad person in his eyes, then?_

_Shut up._

_Shut up._

_You yelled at him._

_He chased after you and you pushed him away._

_You’re an asshole._

Annie groans and drops her spoon in frustration, the silverware flopping uselessly into the tub of melted ice cream between her legs and disappearing underneath the goopy desert. 

(She’s eating mint chocolate chip. She hates mint chocolate chip. But you know who doesn’t? Armin.)

“What’s the point of this?” She groans frustratedly, her voice feeling strange as it leaves her. “What’s the point of bringing me down over shit that’s already _happened_?”

_There is no point, I guess._

_But you need to always know the reason why Armin hates you now._

Annie groans and shakes her head. God—she’s so sick of this.

She pulls the blanket around her shoulders tighter, tugging it on more, engulfing her tiny form as she continues to stare at the tv, unwatching eyes observing the actors on screen for the romantic-comedy playing.

She stays like that for a bit more before a sharp ring comes from the doorbell, echoing throughout the dorm, and at first, Annie ignores it. She looks up from the tv to the walkway leading towards the entrance, as if she can use telepathy to tell whoever’s at the door to go away.

Alas, her efforts are proven futile when another ring comes, and Annie groans in response.

“If this building isn’t on damn fire, I’m murdering whoever’s at the front,” she murmurs to herself, pulling the blanket tighter around herself to walk towards the front door. It’s dark in the house, save for the light of the tv, and Annie stumbles as she tries not to trip on anything before making it to the front.

She rolls up to stand on the tips of her toes, closing one eye as she squints the other through the peephole to peer outside at whatever intruder that _dare_ try to interrupt her lamenting.

But when who she sees isn’t some random delivery man, or Hitch, but _Armin fucking Arlert_ , Annie startles and jerks away from the door, sucking in a sharp breath.

“Uhm? Anybody home?” Armin dings the doorbell again and Annie curses underneath her breath. She _does not_ look presentable—there are green ice cream stains on her shirt, not to mention the fact that she isn't even wearing pants, just kinda stayed curled up in a little ball in her blanket.

Just then, as though the universe has chosen to be merciful today, Mina’s bedroom door swings open and the girl steps out, looking groggy as though she’s just woken. Her black hair is out of his usual pigtails, instead messily disheveled, and it isn’t hard to tell that she was just asleep minutes earlier.

Annie’s dorm mate turns to her and upon seeing the absolutely terrified look in the blonde girl’s eyes, cocks a very suspicious brow.

“Annie?” Mina’s voice is laden with exhaustion as she asks, “what’s wrong?”

Annie holds her breath and trips over to Mina on hurried feet, stumbling over the long blanket around her as she sends a look of utter desperation in the girl’s direction.

“Mina,” Annie gasps, “can you answer the door?”

Mina’s cocked brow raises higher. “Hah? Why can’t you?”

Annie blushes and looks down, ashamed to admit it. “Just… please. I can't answer who’s at the door right now.”

Mina’s expression melts from one of confusion into one of concern. Annie worries that maybe Mina will ask _why_ she refrains from opening the door, but her worries are quickly diminished when Mina says, “alright, sure.”

Annie gives her a grateful look. “Thank you,” she nearly sobs out.

Mina just shrugs before walking over the door just the doorbell rings for the third time. Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, Mina peeps through the hole, sees Armin, and Annie can practically feel the suspicion her dorm mate must have over why Annie is so terrified right now. But then, she opens the door, and Annie holds her breath and ducks around the corner of the door to listen in on the conversation.

“Ah, so someone _is_ here,” Armin says, a bit of relief and surprise in his tone.

Annie peeks around the corner to watch as Mina nods. “Yeah. Sorry, I was asleep.”

“That’s okay,” Armin says. “Is Annie here?”

Annie covers her mouth just as a gasp escapes her. Mina’s eyes flit to her, and Annie frantically shakes her head _no_. Mina understands. “No, I’m all alone,” she answers Armin.

“Oh,” he says, sounding maybe a bit disappointed.

“Did you… want to talk to her?” Mina asks. “If you want, I can pass on the message to her.”

Armin stays quiet and Annie grimaces to herself. It doesn’t take a genius to know that Armin is here to discuss the rather… unfortunate occurrence that happened on Friday, and it’s not as though Annie doesn’t _want_ to clear up what happened between them. She just didn’t think that he’d come in person to talk to her—she can’t risk this ending in another one of those screaming-crying arguments like Friday.

“Unless… you don’t want me to?” Mina asks. 

Armin sighs. “It’s a bit personal. I don’t think she’d want you to know.”

_Look at him. Still acting like he cares about you._

 _Now is_ not _the time._

“Alright, that’s fine,” Mina says. “I’ll tell her you swung by and she can give you a call.”

“Yeah, if you could do that,” Armin says.

Mina nods and smiles, raising a hand to wave her goodbye. “Well, it was nice seeing y-“ 

“Wait—!” Armin blurts.

Mina starts at his loud voice. “Wh-What?”

“Uhm,” he clears his throat, “c-can you give this to her when she comes back? Like a… late birthday gift, I guess.”

Mina blinks down at whatever Armin is offering her, and Annie peeks around the corner again to watch as her roommate takes a baby blue gift bag into her hands. “Sure, I’ll give it to her.”

“Thank you.”

Mina nods and smiles again. “It was good seeing you, Armin.”

“It was nice seeing you too.”

Annie watches as Mina waves goodbye before closing the door. She peeks through the peephole, watching as Armin retreats, and when he’s gone she turns to Annie.

“Did something happen between you two?” Mina asks.

Annie blushes again. “More or less.”

“But you… don’t want to talk about it?” It’s more of a question than it is a statement.

Annie shakes her head.

She hears Mina sigh. “Alright, then. But if you want to, you know where to find me.”

Annie nods, watching as Mina sets the gift bag down on the coffee table right next to her pint of melted ice cream. She can’t rip her eyes away from the bag, even as Mina starts to walk away and say something—she keeps eyeing it, wondering what’s inside.

_Open it if you want to know._

_You know I’m not going to do that._

_Why not? Hm? Don’t want to have any reminders of him around?_

Annie doesn’t retort.

Mina eventually retreats into the bathroom, leaving Annie all alone in the front room, and she sighs before letting her arms go limp, letting the blanket drop from her shoulders and fall to the floor. Her sock-clad feet slowly shuffle across the wooden flooring towards the coffee table, and she hesitates before finally picking up the bag. She reaches into it, a breath snagged in her throat, anticipating the worst, fearing what’s at the bottom.

 _It’s not like there’s going to be a bomb in here. Just stop freaking out,_ she tells herself.

But when the tips of her fingers brush up against something unexpectedly soft, she _eeps_ and yanks her hand back out. _Nope, nope._ She can’t do this.

She sets the bag down on the coffee table and takes a few deep breaths as though she’s preparing to go into labor.

_You’ll have to open it someday._

_Armin will hate you if you never do._

_I know._

Annie grunts and grabs the gift bag again, plucking her blanket from the floor before retreating into her bedroom. She sets the bag down on her dresser and, though the lights are off and it’s dark, she stares at her reflection.

Her blue eyes are red-rimmed from mainly exhaustion, and her jaw feels oddly sore as a result of her constant grinding from stress. She reaches up to touch her hair clumped together in a bun, then her lips, and she lets her fingers linger there, trying to recall the way Armin’s lips had felt against hers that night. That blissful weight settling against her—his heady scent—how soft his lips were. She gently presses the pads of her index and middle finger against her lips as if to replicate it, but it pales terribly in comparison _._

_Kiss—kiss—kiss._

_Stop it._

_Kiss—kiss—kiss._

“ _Stop,_ ” Annie snaps aloud. But it goes on—it keeps taunting her, reminding her of what she’s done. Annie shakes her head and rakes a hand through her hair as it slips out of her bun before tugging angrily at the flaxen strands.

 _You_ kissed _him._

 _You ruined_ everything _._

“I didn’t _mean_ to,” Annie gasps quietly. She shakes her head again. It was a mistake—she _swears_ it was.

(Annie has made a lot of bad decisions in her life—like most people, she feels a lot of regret. But this— _this_ amount of regret is so large, it’s basically insurmountable; she’s never felt like this before.

And she realizes that it’s because she’s never _cared_ about anything as much as she cares about Armin. She doesn’t want to lose him.)

A gasp escapes her. And then another. And then another. And then she’s practically gulping air into her lungs, her chest tightening as though she can’t get enough of it. She blinks away her tears but they return—she tries to breathe normally but she _can’t_ —she tries to calm down but it’s _impossible_.

“Fuck,” she utters—the only coherent word that can escape her labored breaths. She staggers backward and bumps into the edge of her desk, making her school supplies atop the table clatter to the ground. She knocks a chair over as she tries to steady herself—ends up crashing straight into her bed frame before she eventually crumples onto her bed in defeat.

_Not now. Please—not now._

Darkness clouds her vision as the edges of her eyesight blurs. She reaches out as tears start rolling down her cheek, reaching for something to cling onto—searching for some sort of hope that can keep her going, or some sort of relief from her racing heart.

But it isn’t there.

* * *

The next time Annie regains consciousness, it’s because her phone is blaring it’s scheduled alarm at 7am. She groans and turns over, finding herself in the same position she fell asleep in. Her tongue feels tacky where it’s stuck behind her teeth, and her cheeks feel oddly stiff, dried with tears.

When she sits up with a grunted “fuck,” trying to gather her scattered bearings. Her head aches terribly, and there’s something strange sitting in the back of her mind, pestering her brain. She first shuts off her phone alarm, then sits on the center of her bed in front of the dim light of the sun through her window as it just barely starts to rise.

“Fuck,” she mutters again with a shake of her head. She scrubs a hand down her face as the pieces fall in place, putting themselves together bit by bit, fragment by fragment. It feels like someone closed a fist around her heart, making it heavier with more than just sleep, and Annie blinks, letting it come together. Then, her eyes lift and she catches sight of a gift bag not unlike the color of her eyes atop her dresser.

And then she remembers it.

“Fuck!” She hisses, having found today’s mantra. The memories rush back to her as though she’s hungover and remembering a night heavily filled with drinking, relentless, and she grimaces as she remembers Armin's voice.

_You’re gonna have to open it and see what’s inside._

Annie lifts her eyes to stare at the gift bag. “Do I have to?” She exhales.

_No, if you want Armin to hate you._

_Oh wait—he already does._

Annie curses aloud. It was stupid of her to ask that. Armin can’t _possibly_ hate her, right? They’re friends… they’ve been friends for a while now. He wouldn’t hate her over one, measly little kiss.

_It’s not just a kiss._

_You screamed at him too, remember?_

_You told him you wanted him to go away._

“I don’t need a reminder,” Annie hisses. She scoots to the edge of her bed, standing up and swaying slightly on her feet as she narrows her eyes at the gift bag.

_Open it open it open it open it open it open-_

“Fine! Will you shut _up_ and leave me _alone_ already?” Annie cries.

That voice—the thing that’s been taunting her since Friday—sniggers, and if it had a mouth, it would be grinning right now. But then it jeers its two cents before retreating into the back of her mind. Annie exhales a long breath, letting herself relish in the slight relief she gets from the absence of _that voice_ ™.

And then she looks at the gift bag again.

She really should open it…

Slowly, she stalks towards it before reaching into the bag. Her fingers brush up against something smooth and she flinches, holding her breath as she digs further and first pulls out a card.

It’s a white envelope with _Happy Birthday Annie!_ written across it in pen. She opens it, then extracts the letter inside, and instantly recognizes Armin’s flawless and fluent penmanship.

**_Wow, it's your birthday already, huh?_ **

**_We've had a few hardships in our friendship, and there's most likely only going to be more coming our way, but you're someone that I really cherish. I hope we can continue being friends no matter what life throws our way, and through it all, I want you to know that I will always care about you. No matter the circumstance, I always want to be by your side._ **

**_Happy Birthday, Annie Leonhardt <3_ **

Annie holds her breath when she finishes reading the letter. She lifts her thumb where it holds onto the paper as if searching for more writing, but that’s it. She flips the card around a few times, shaking it as though a secret card will fall out, but when she’s left with nothing but what’s in her hands, she stops.

Her eyes scan over the words again, as if searching for a hidden message. _No_ _matter the circumstance, I always want to be by your side._ That’s… it?

“It doesn’t say that he doesn’t want to be my friend anymore,” Annie exhales aloud. And then she murmurs it again, testing the phrase on her tongue one more time, “Armin doesn’t hate me.”

She hadn’t known what she was fearing so much until she said it out loud, but that’s it—she was scared of Armin hating her. But here… it says;

_No matter the circumstance, I always want to be by your side._

And then she says it out loud.

“No matter the circumstance, I always want to be by your side.”

A grin involuntarily curls into her cheeks, a sigh of relief escaping her.

They’re… going to be alright. Right?

Oh-

Wait-

Annie pauses and peers over at the gift bag again. There’s something _else_ in there, too. She reaches into it, this time a lot less tentative, and when she grabs whatever’s left in the bag, she pulls it out.

It’s soft between her fingers, and when she holds it out with both hands, she notices that it’s a hoodie. A large, light grey hoodie.

She smiles a bit wider.

Armin knows her too well. She doesn’t need anything fancy or materialistic—this is enough.

Annie tugs on the hoodie, and it fits perfectly in that kind of sort-of-oversized-but-also-not-really ration that Annie likes. She sighs contentedly when the warmth of the silk encapsulates her torso, and she steps back before sitting at the edge of her bed.

Just as she settles down, her phone chimes as a notification comes in. Annie reaches over and turns it on, lighting on the fact that the battery is less than full since she hadn’t charged it, and that’s when a text notification rolls in from Armin. She swallows nervously but then manages to bring herself to open it.

**[** **_hey, did you get your gift yet?_ ** **]**

It feels a bit foreign and strange to see a text for him since it’s felt like they’ve been deliberately avoiding each other since Friday, but as much as it feels foreign, it also feels a bit _right_. Annie finds herself holding back an unbidden wave of tears as she types out a response.

[ _yeah, I just opened it. Thank you_ ]

 **[** **_of course. It’s your birthday :)_ ** **]**

 **[** **_sorry it wasn’t much._ ** **]**

Annie first types out: _it’s fine. I loved it anyway_ , but then pauses before she sends it and changes the _loved_ to _like_.

[ _it’s fine. I like it anyway_ ]

She holds her breath and finds herself typing out: _‘I miss you,’_ before instantly deleting it.

Then, she types: _‘have you been okay since Friday?’_ Before deleting it again.

_‘I miss your voice.’_

Delete.

_‘I love you.’_

Delete. 

_‘Call me?’_

Delete delete delete.

A new message comes in before she can type another message (that’ll most likely get deleted again).

**[** **_I can see you typing haha. You can tell me if you hate the gift_ ** **]**

Annie worries her bottom lip and quickly sends;

[ _no, it’s fine Armin._ ]

_‘It’s perfect. I love it. Thank you.’_ She forces herself to send it before she can think twice.

**[** **_I’m glad you like it_ ** **]**

Annie holds herself and types out a message. She sends it before she loses her nerve.

[ _do you still want to be my friend? Even after Friday?_ ]

She waits a few dreadful seconds for his response with a breath snagged in her throat. The three dots pulsating on his side of his screen that indicate him texting disappear for a second, and Annie worries that he won’t respond before they reappear again.

A minute passes.

Two minutes…

Then-

**[** **_I said so in my card, didn’t I? I always want to be by your side_ ** **]**

 **[** **_do you not want to be my friend?_ ** **]**

[ _no I do._ ]

[ _I just thought you hated me… after Friday._ ]

This time, Armin's response is instantaneous.

**[** **_I could never hate you, Annie_ ** **]**

Annie gnaws on her bottom lip and as if a dam just burst in her chest, the tears come again. She manages to suppress them, along just barely, and she sets her phone down before staring at the floor.

“He doesn’t hate me,” she murmurs out loud to let it sink in, her voice tight and fragile. Then, again; “Armin doesn’t hate me.”

A giddy smile spread across her cheeks.

She hasn’t smiled this genuinely in what feels like years, although as soon as her joy comes, a bitter sadness creeps in. 

_So what’ll you do now?_

_What?_

_He doesn’t hate you, for now._

_But you have to stop loving him._

_Or else you might actually end up hurting him._

Annie swallows thickly and rises off of her bed. She hears her phone chime with another text notification, but she doesn’t check to see if it’s Armin or not. She leaves her room and steps out into the hallway, where she can hear the hushed bustle of movement coming from the front room, and she wanders forward to see her two roommates awake. 

Hitch sits at the couch, eating toast and watching some random tv show, and Mina pours herself a bowl of cereal on the kitchen counter.

Annie parts her lips, ready to say something, but her voice catches on a whimper. Hitch starts and looks over as tears begin pouring down Annie’s face, and she chokes around her heart as she says, “I don’t deserve him.”

“What?” Hitch asks, setting down her plate as toast. Mina abandons the open carton of milk to walk towards Annie as the blonde desperately tries to knuckle her tears away, though they seem to keep coming.

“A-Armin,” Annie chokes around a sob, “h-he… he just…” She struggles with coherency.

Mina helps guide Annie to the couch, and in this moment, Annie realizes that she has never, in her life, felt more pathetic than she does now—crying in front of her roommates.

“Did he hurt you?” Hitch asks, her voice taking on a weird, protective lilt.

Annie shakes her head. “I hurt him,” she murmurs.

Mina blinks. “What?”

Annie worries her bottom lip as a sharp sob escapes her lips. “I-I needed to stop…”

She inhales slowly and closes her eyes.

“It’s over.”

 _Shit,_ she thinks, as if it’s just _now_ sinking in. 

“What’s over?” Mina asks.

Annie sucks in a sharp breath and shakes her head, not wanting to explain—not wanting to describe the pain.

Instead, she quietly murmurs underneath her breath;

“It’s really over…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oKAY (this note is pretty long, just telling you this in advance. you don’t have to read it)
> 
> this chapter is more of a message than it is just another random plot-point driving the story forward. Obviously, Armin made the revelation that, oh shit, this kind of back-and-forth relationship between him and Annie isn't healthy and he needs it to change. It's not necessarily that he and Annie are toxic, more like, the way they're handling this isn't the best for them.
> 
> And so, the message I'm trying to deliver: IT'S NEVER OKAY TO SUFFER. In a relationship, at work, with friends, at school—literally anywhere. If you think that something is toxic, it's most likely because it is. Take a step back, reevaluate everything, and find whatever's fucking you up. And again, it might not necessarily be that the people you surround yourself with are toxic, it might just be that something exterior is affecting it. In Armin and Annie's case, it's a lack of understanding and a shit ton of miscommunication. Just remember that you don't need to suffer for the well-being of others.  
> You deserve peace— _we all_ do.
> 
> Jesus, that was unnecessarily long haha  
> I just really needed to put this out there.


	17. Chapter 17

**ᗩᖇᗰIᑎ ᗩᖇᒪEᖇT**

**~**

Let’s be honest; it’s hard to heal.

Days of bliss soon turn painful to plow through, and the sight of flaxen hair and icy eyes now tears straight into his heart. 

Searing agony and painful yearning seem to rip him apart day by day by day. 

He awakes at night, longing for the girl he never had, reaching into the darkness and hoping to feel her presence. 

Everything seemed to remind him of her, and each reminder brought with it a sickening amalgam of melancholy and nausea.

They say time heals all wounds, but never tell what you’re meant to do as you wait.

So he just sits there with his broken heart in his hands, watching life pass him by because, honestly, some days just won’t start; some days, all he’s left to do is forcefully drag himself back into reality and seem normal.

Some days, all he’s left to do is drop himself into the world regardless of his inner turmoil and suffering.

Some days, all he’s left to do is cling onto that tiny bit of hope in his chest to keep going.

Because even though he has fallen apart at the seams, he knows that one day, it’ll get better.

One day, _he’ll_ get better.

One day, he’ll look back at this dreadful moment in his life and laugh.

One day…


	18. Chapter 18

**ᗩᑎᑎIE ᒪEOᑎᕼᗩᖇᗪT**

**~**

Time is only an enemy during grieving times.

It continues with or without you; it’s an endless, unwavering concept that we’ve all grown familiar with—a prospect that brings us into the future, which we now call the present.

And it doesn’t stop—it will consume whatever stands in its path to continue its powerful surge forward, bringing us closer to the inevitable which we have no say in.

Time doesn’t care—time just keeps going.

It goes on whether you’re ready for it or not.

It slips from her fingers when she doesn’t realize it—it forcefully rouses her from her sleep, her only place of peace and comfort.

And that’s when the memories come.

That’s when she recalls the despair as the dread creeps into her heart, hooking in her stomach, all tangled and black.

She trudges through the days as the sickening voice prattles on in her mind, snickering at her, taunting her; telling her what she fucked up as though any more reminders were needed.

Whilst enmeshed in shadow and detached from reality, the only way she confirms that the world hasn’t stopped moving is by sitting and staring as the world turns black at night, joining her in total darkness.

Maybe she’s in a cycle?

Maybe she’s in some sort of dizzying cycle of waiting without knowledge of _what_ she’s waiting for.

But she’s patient more than she is a quitter.

She won’t quit—he wouldn’t want that for her.

So she sits in wait.

Waiting…

...for something.


	19. Chapter 19

**ᗩᖇᗰIᑎ ᗩᖇᒪEᖇT**

**~**

And you know what?

One day, things _did_ get easier.

Eventually.

Maybe not because he’s healing, but because he’s getting used to it.

But as time goes on, the pain starts to settle in the little grooves of his chest. His inner turmoil starts to ease and his mind starts to clear; he starts to grow around the hurt and seal it up, encasing the darkness, trapping and taming it.

He isn’t sure if he’s healing or if he’s simply getting used to it, but what he does know is that he feels _better_. 

And so one day, it becomes easier.

One day, the sight of flaxen hair and icy eyes doesn’t tear straight into his heart.

One day, he stops waking up in the middle of the night in tears, reaching into the darkness and wishing to feel her presence.

One day, the yearning and agony quells and makes room for serenity.

One day, seeing her on campus doesn’t hurt as much.

And so one day, they start talking again.

One day, being around her doesn’t hurt as much. 

Don’t get him wrong — it still _does_ hurt, but the pain eased and morphed into something manageable.

What they have isn’t the same, either — but then again, it’s manageable. What they have now is manageable and precious and delicate, and so when he accidentally finds his old feelings begin to resurface, he quickly stuffs them down.

It’s not the same.

It’s not the same.

It’s not the sa-

But it’s enough.

-

Okay, so maybe things aren’t getting _easier,_ perse.

Maybe things _are_ getting better.

… 

Maybe this _is_ healing?


	20. Chapter 20

**ᗩᑎᑎIE ᒪEOᑎᕼᗩᖇᗪT**

**~**

Or maybe, she was waiting for someone.

-

“ _The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results._ ”

-

She realized she was insane when she first heard that quote.

Because even as the world slipped away and time did nothing but make her want it to halt, she didn’t do anything.

She just sat and waited.

Patience is a virtue, yes — but you can’t expect everything to fall into place without doing anything.

Because as much as she is patient, she’s resilient.

Hours passed, days flew by, weeks dragged on. Time keeps going with or without you, and all that was happening was that she was getting left behind. So instead, she started to catch up.

But since time is so fucking elusive and intangible, she isn’t sure how long it took her to catch up.

Months?

Years?

Centuries?

Eternities?

She isn’t sure.

But she did. Catch up, that is.

She caught up.

And so did everything else.

-

And everything started to fall back into place.

-

They started talking again. Their conversations started with small-talk — baby steps — before they finally got more comfortable with each other again. It was as though they were building a friendship from scratch again.

Of course, there’s still the heavy weight of their somewhat broken relationship still lingering between them, but they’ve mended that and grown from it.

-

It was at night when things were the hardest.

At night, there was only silence, and that made her mind wander.

So she forced it not to.

She kept herself busy with late night phone calls with friends (she’s fairly sure that Mikasa and Sasha are one call away from murdering her, now).

And then she started reading books.

(She started hating books.)

She started falling asleep with the TV on — by watching reruns of old shows, sitcoms, movies. As long as there was noise, her mind wouldn’t wander and sleep would come easy.

And eventually, she stopped needing the TV.

It was getting better.

 _She_ was getting better.

-

But sometimes, she would momentarily regress.

The accidental brush of skin against skin, or the way he’d murmur her name at times would stick with her. And if those memories spilt over into the late night, she would allow her thighs to part and her pants to fall to just release that bit of tension with her fingers.

Because there are still _some_ things that are hard to give up.

But that’s okay.

As long as it’s kept in moderation.

As long as she doesn’t lose her cool.

_She isn’t willing to lose him._

-

Yeah, heartbreak is sad, and although she wouldn’t necessarily call what she’s experiencing a ‘ _broken heart_ ’, it is _still_ something difficult that she managed to get through.

But — still — she got through it.

She did it.

And so she’ll treasure him, as well as her own heart.

She’ll be grateful.

  
(One day, _the voice_ ™that prattles on in her mind disappears—it evanesces and takes all of its torturous feelings with it.

And this is how she knows that she’s truly gotten better.)


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I realized that I never specified how much time has passed, so uh, yeah, it’s been a little bit over half a year? Yeah basically this takes place within the same year but it's just December
> 
> (so this is technically chapter 2 but it's winter instead of spring💀)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> did I just spend two months working on a chapter that was only 2k words? Yes, yes I did.
> 
> am I proud of it? No, not at fucking all.

A strange sense of déjà-vu comes over Annie when she finds herself sitting at a bench in the courtyard, closing her eyes and leaning her hot forehead against the cool metal of the fence behind her when Armin approaches her.

“You look terrible,” he says.

She doesn’t bother opening her eyes as she nods. “That’s because I _feel_ terrible,” she grumbles.

His footfalls near her before he settles beside her on the bench, prompting Annie to open her eyes and finally peer at him. Bundled up in layers of clothing, his body looks smaller than he actually is, but Annie knows, personally, that this thick winter coat is only hiding his figure. Even she, herself, is bundled up in thicker clothing than usual due to the lower temperatures.

She typically doesn’t mind winter, but being a college student with classes at 6am entails her having to get up before the sun, making her instinctively despise the cool weather. _Winter break is coming soon,_ she tells herself every morning as a way to keep plowing through the freezing cold days in spite of her constant hesitance to extract herself from the warmth of her bed. _When the break comes, I can stay inside all I want and sleep in._

(It’s a glorious thought to think about, really.)

Today is a Wednesday—two days until winter break—and Annie finds herself wishing that it was Friday already.

“Not much of a morning person?” Armin inquires.

Annie shakes her head and sighs. “I’m not much of a 6am person,” she corrects through a huff. “I just want it to be winter break already.”

“Tell me about it,” Armin groans. “Final exams are _killing_ me.”

“Too bad we don’t have many classes together," she sighs. "We could’ve studied together.”

Armin cocks a brow at Annie, snorting. “Study together? By that do you mean that you'll copy off all of my notes?”

Annie languidly waves her dainty hand as if to dismiss his words. “Everyone has their own way of studying,” she defends, not sounding defensive in the slightest but instead humored.

Armin rolls his blue eyes, but sniggers nonetheless before shaking his head. “Do you have any plans over break?”

Annie shrugs, leaning back against the fence. “Not really… I told my dad I’d visit him during Christmas, for formalities and such. Don’t think I’ll stay long.” She turns to Armin, cocking a brow in his direction. “You?”

“On Sunday, there's going to be the funeral for my grandfather,” he solemnly admits, a bit bitter since the mention of his late grandparent always seems to leave a rotten taste on his tongue. His grandfather had only passed recently, the abrupt event leaving Armin buried in a state of grief that nearly seemed impossible for him to escape.

_Nearly._

But Annie was there, and she helped him get through what he could.

Offering him a sympathetic expression, Annie slowly murmurs an almost regretful, “Oh, I’m sorry,” under her breath.

Armin shakes his head, offering her a strained smile. “It’s alright.”

But Annie knows it isn’t.

She’s gotten a bit better at reading Armin, lately—though she supposes it’s mainly due to the fact that she used to be head-over-heels for him and used to ogle at him all the time. She doesn’t love him anymore—well, she _loves_ him, but strictly platonically now—but she finds herself catching onto subtle things he used to do which indicate the way he truly feels, deep down. Like how Annie would often roll her ring on her thumb whenever she got anxious, Armin would constantly shift his weight from one leg onto another.

It’s the little things she notices—she’s sure he’s noticed such things about her too, since he's just always been observant like that.

(At times, she finds herself wondering if he ever noticed that she used to love him. The recollections of when she had been so terribly lovesick for him remain fogged up and blurred in her mind, almost as though her brain is trying to subconsciously forget that time when she had pined so painfully for a boy who didn’t pine for her, so she can’t exactly remember if she had ever hidden her feelings well enough or not.

But when she remembers that she had fallen out of love and that now that her feelings are gone, any chances of her ruining their precious friendship have significantly curtailed, the wondering stops.)

“Do you… have any plans after that?” Annie decides to ask cautiously. “After the wake, I mean.”

He shrugs and shakes his head. “Probably nothing. I might visit Eren and Mikasa since they’ll be coming home for the break. You should come if you want to.”

Annie contemplates the idea and gives a brief nod in response. “Yeah… maybe. We’ll see.” She fishes her phone out of her pocket when it vibrates with a notification, and a quick glance at the dim screen tells her that it’s time for her next class. With a frown, she stuffs her phone back into her pocket and inhales the icy air slowly, bracing herself for her next lecture.

“Time for your next class?” Armin says as he watches her grab her bag, though it sounds more like a question than a declaration.

Annie nods solemnly. “Unfortunately,” she grumbles. “See you later, if I don’t die from boredom in this next lecture.”

Armin grins at her comment, the sight of his smile making fondness blossom in Annie’s chest. “Stay alive,” he tells her as she stands to her feet. They exchange a simple wave before Annie is off to her next class, weaving her way through the students around her and making her way to her next class.

As she walks, she finds herself thinking about Armin’s suggestion—visiting Eren and Mikasa with him. She’s momentarily thrown back into the past as she thinks this over, remembering when she had visited the two during their spring break only to somehow get involved in a camping trip.

 _Boy, wasn’t that trip fun,_ she thinks sarcastically, though she’d be exaggerating if she said she hadn’t enjoyed herself a bit during that trip. The excursion had been undoubtedly fun, though it seemed to trigger a series of unfortunate events after that between Armin and Annie which only lead her down a path of dismay.

But that’s all in the past. She’ll never be able to enjoy the present if she lives in the past.

Plus, she’s (read: _they’ve_ ) already grown from that time, and what are the odds of something going wrong, anyway?

 _It does sound fun,_ she admits to herself because it honestly does—kicking back after this hellish school term and relaxing during the break with some of her friends.

_What’s the worst that could happen?_

* * *

“I don’t like the expression you’re wearing,” Armin grumbles, glaring at his phone screen where his friend's—Eren’s—face is displayed during their FaceTime call.

The brunet on the other side only grins. “ _What expression?_ ” He asks, sounding deceivingly innocent.

“ _That_ one,” Armin says, raising an accusatory finger to point at the face displayed on his phone screen. “What are you up to?”

“ _Nothing,_ ” Eren blurts, grinning and _so_ obviously lying. His ears turn red as if to further prove that what he said is far from the truth.

Armin squints his eyes suspectingly at his friend, leaning back in his chair by his desk in his room. “I don’t believe you.”

The brunet grins at this claim. “ _Well, you’d be right not to believe. I have a surprise planned for you._ ”

 _A surprise_. Armin recalls the last surprise Eren had planned for him—it was when he had come back home early in March, unannounced, because he failed one of his classes, yet Eren somehow used it as an excuse of a ‘surprise’. It definitely was a surprise, in literal terms, just not so much a pleasant one. Cocking a blond brow, Armin nods slowly as if encouraging him to continue.

“ _I can’t tell you_ what _it is exactly. But! I can give you a hint._ ”

“Alright, go on,” the blond urges.

“ _It has to do with your winter break._ ”

Armin rolls his eyes. “Real specific, bud,” he murmurs. “You sure you didn’t just fail one of your classes again?”

Eren frowns. “ _Real funny,_ ” he groans sarcastically.

The blond snorts his amusement at Eren's response, but then shrugs and sits forward on his seat. Leaning forward, he slightly jostles one of the books on his desk, causing his attention to momentarily divert from his call to the plethora of textbooks and notebooks scattered about atop the desk as if to convey his messy studying habits to the world. Upon remembering that he’s supposed to be studying (read: _cramming_ ) for a final in one of his classes the next morning, his eyes flicker to the time displayed on the top right corner of his screen, and once he sees that it’s a quarter to 8pm, he groans.

“Well,” he sighs, “as much as I’d love to stay here on the phone playing this guessing game with you, I actually have studying to get back to.”

“ _Aw, you’re no fun,_ ” Eren whines. “ _But I guess I’ll let you go and study. I have my own stuff to do anyway. I’ll tell you what the surprise is when I see you during winter break._ ”

“Alright, talk to you later.”

“ _Bye_.”

The call ends after that, and Armin finds his eyes lingering on the time longer than necessary. _I really don’t want to study,_ he thinks, dreadfully. _But I_ have _to._

( _Or I could fail, and retake this class already knowing the topics for next term and—_

 _No, that’s stupid,_ he corrects himself. _I_ have _to pass._ )

With an acquiescing sigh, he picks up his notebook and glances at what he has written, grimacing at the sight of slightly smudged graphite over the words and at how _long_ the notes are. It takes a few more seconds of silent contemplation before he gives in and focuses on the study notes scattered across his wooden desks.

Though even as he attempts to retain the information he reads in his textbooks and notes, his mind unbiddenly keeps thinking back to what Eren had said during their call. _‘A surprise.’_ He finds himself guessing what the surprise could be, whilst fully-well that he probably won’t even figure out what it is.

 _‘I’ll tell you what the surprise is when I see you during winter break.’_ Imagining visiting Eren and Mikasa to find out what the surprise is has Armin recalling when he had visited Eren and Mikasa during their spring break with Annie. Though that visit had been fun in it and of itself, the memories of how painfully Armin had pinned for Annie during then bring with them a feeling of misfitting despair. _God,_ he was so stupid at that time.

Stupid, lovesick, and so fucking naive. He cringes, but then shakes his head, forcing the thoughts away.

 _Ah, what good does it do to dwell on the past?_ He thinks. Sure, that time was bad, but he’s _fine_ now.

Really.

Like, actually.

He’s fine now.

 _Imagine if Eren’s surprise was a trip,_ Armin thinks to himself. _Like our spontaneous camping trip._

He snorts aloud to himself, dismissing that thought because of the ridiculousness and irony to it. It would be funny if that happened, but what are the chances?

“Ah, shit,” Armin murmurs. “I’m supposed to be _studying,_ ” he chastises himself. _Focus, Arlert. You have an exam tomorrow._

And so he dismisses his thoughts and refocuses on his notes, trying to get _some_ information into his brain for his upcoming final.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you know, this book kind of backfired on me. To be honest, when I made this fanfic, it was more of way for me to cope with my depression and my sad and pathetic love life, but with school and all, it’s become more of a drag to write than it has been exciting. Oh, and don’t even get me _started_ on writer’s block.
> 
> I dunno, I guess I got really dependent on coping by reflecting my feelings onto the characters, but since things are looking up for them but not so much for me, it’s gotten discouraging to write.
> 
> Don't worry though, I’m going to stop writing nor will take a break soon, or anything like that. Just.... idk, wanted to put this out there, I guess?


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I present to you another filler😌
> 
> I'M KIDDING
> 
> (kinda)
> 
> (not really)
> 
> _(im sorry ;-;)_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some slight eremika representation this chapter to warm your souls (っˆ▿ˆ）❤

When Armin exits his final class on Friday, what greets him is first overwhelming exhaustion, which is thankfully followed by light and blissful relief.

Finally! No more shall he stay up late, cramming for his finals, wishing he were snoozing off into a more peaceful dreamland in his bed! No more.

He smiles leisurely to himself as he drags his feet out of the building, marching across campus to the parking lot. He finds his car amongst others, drives away from campus to his apartment, and the minute he’s inside, he collapses onto the couch. 

He’s home alone. Probably. Or maybe not. He’s not too sure—he didn’t really check to see if his roommate returned home—he just sort of fell onto the soft, welcoming leather cushion of his couch.

It’s not hard to find sleep. Shoving all of his thoughts away, his mind clears as he embarks on a journey to get back all the sleep he’s lost due to final’s week. His eyelids droop with exhaustion, and with a final sigh, he feels him slip from reality.

  
  
  


But then he is awake, due to voices, which had at first sounded distant but are now loud and clear. He blinks groggily, rubs the sleep from his eyes, and then grunts as he turns over on the couch to find whoever dares rouse him.

Past the couch, he finds his roommate standing in the kitchen with some other guy beside him; they both talk loudly as if there isn’t a _sleeping person in the same fucking room as them._

Armin recognizes the man standing beside Jean—Marco, his freckled friend who went out with him to the bar that one time. He sits up on the couch and straightens, and the shift of movement makes both adults snap their mouths shut and turn to Armin.

“Ah, you’re awake,” Jean says.

“Sorry, did we wake you?” Marco asks, sounding much more sympathetic than his friend.

Armin tries not to frown but then does anyway. “No, you’re all good,” he says, though the sudden tiredness to his bones says otherwise.

“Dude, you were out like a light,” Jean snorts. “I came home, what was it?—almost four hours ago and you were knocked out. Snoring and everything.”

Armin’s brows furrow. “Wait—four hours ago?” He fumbles for his phone on the floor—having slipped from his pocket in his sleep probably—and finds that it's 7pm.

_But I came home at 2…_

Okay, so maybe he slept longer than he thought.

But still—how dare he be awakened!

“Your phone was buzzing like hell though,” Jean says. “Missed calls from your girlfriend?” He teasingly tacks on.

Armin rolls and eyes and has to laugh. “Funny.” He stands from the couch, head spinning and limbs sore, and grabs his backpack from off the floor. Unlocking his phone as he makes for his bedroom, he finds that there are a few missed calls from Eren, as well as a few texts from him. Curious, Armin presses the notifications and views the unread messages.

 **[** **_dudee I just called you three times_ ** **]**

 **[** **_are you awake?_ ** **]**

 **[** **_okay well if you’re not just call me later and tell me if you’re free tomorrow_ ** **]**

 **[** **_preferably in the morning_ ** **]**

Armin cocks a brow as he types a message back, finally responding in spite of having received these messages a little bit over an hour ago.

[ _why do you need to know if I’m free?_ ]

Eren’s response is to call Armin. The latter stares at the incoming call from his friend with a cocked brow, confused as to why Eren called him so quickly. Typically, Eren takes at least ten minutes to reply—but now he’s _calling_ Armin within the second he called him. _This must be something important, then,_ Armin thinks to himself as he picks up the call.

“Hello—”

“ _Well, are you?_ ” Eren’s voice blurts on the other end, cutting Armin off.

“Huh?” Armin asks, stepping into his bedroom and closing the door. “Am I… what?”

“ _Available._ ”

“Oh, uh, yeah, maybe. Why do you even care?”

There’s a long pause on the other end, and for a second Armin wonders if the line got cut off. But when he wrenches his phone away from his ear and finds that his friend is, in fact, still on the phone with him.

“ _Look,_ ” Eren begins, sighing. “ _When I say this, you can’t get mad at me._ ”

Armin feels tense already. “That… doesn’t sound good,” he murmurs, tense.

“ _Well, you know how I’m coming home tomorrow for winter break?_ ”

Armin nods slowly, but upon remembering that Eren can’t see him, says, “yeah, what about it?”

“ _So, originally, the plan was for Mika and me to take the plane home tomorrow at, like, 2am. But then I realized that I still had stuff to do tonight and I might stay up past then so instead of 2am, we’re gonna come home at 6am. So I told Mom, but turns out that she had switched her shifts around with her coworker—_ ”

Armin rolls his eyes and shakes his head. Already knowing where this conversation is going and wanting to spare his friend from having to say this tedious explanation, he says, “Eren,” as a means of cutting his friend off. However, the latter seems to not hear him as he continues to ramble.

“ _—So turns out, she can’t switch shifts again since nobody is available that time, so I ended up calling my dad, but—_ ”

Armin sighs and tries again; “Eren.” Again, he is unheard.

“ _—he’s not back home yet from his business trip, so basically if you can pretty please with a cherry on top—_ ”

“Eren!” Armin finally grunts.

The boy on the other end of the call goes silent. “ _Y-Yes?_ ” He asks tentatively.

Armin exhales slowly. “I already know what you want to ask me. If I can pick you up tomorrow, right?”

He hears Eren audibly gulp. “ _Yeah… can you?_ ”

Armin rakes a hand through his hair, but then picks up his feet and finally walks towards his bed. _6am, huh._ “I mean, sure, I guess. It’s not like you guys have any other rides, right?”

“ _OhmyGod, thank you so much,_ ” Eren practically sobs. “ _What would I do without you?_ ”

Armin snorts, collapsing onto the soft comforter on his bed. “Probably get stranded,” he comments.

“ _Probably,_ ” Eren sighs. “ _But thank you, again. I should go now though, and get back to what I was doing._ ”

Armin nods again. “Okay. Send me the airport you’ll be at tomorrow, and I’ll pick you up then.”

“ _Alright, bye._ ”

“Bye.”

Armin hangs up, and then, with his eyelids drooping, sets an alarm for 5am the next morning. The minute the alarm is scheduled, his phone drops atop the comforter, and he finds sleep easily again.

  
  
  


And then he is awake again, due to his incessantly loud alarm. He is first discombobulated—confused as to why his alarm is going off as early as it is—but as he shuts it off and lays his head down on his pillow, the fog of sleep in his mind clears as fragments of the previous evening come back to him; his phone call with Eren, and how he needs to pick them up.

He groans and doesn’t get up for a few seconds, despite knowing that he should lest he leaves his home too late. He debates, for a moment, on just not going. He could just curl up in his bed, ignoring the continuous calls he’ll most likely get from Eren and Mikasa, and just sleep until fully rested.

It sounds comfortable enough… but-

“Don’t be an asshole, Arlert,” Armin groans to himself, pushing himself out of bed. He shivers from the cold, yawning his exhaustion as he drags his feet across the bedroom floor and outside into the kitchen. There, he preps a cup of coffee, and then uses the bathroom. He decides not to change as he gets ready, deciding that it’s fair enough to leave his house in a simple pair of sweats and a hoodie, considering it’s a quarter to 6am.

He leaves with his keys and coffee in hand, socks and sandals on (don’t judge him—he’s tired), and phone tucked into his pocket.

He rushes into his car, setting the address Eren had given him last night into his phone GPS before driving off.

It proves to be very difficult to stay awake while driving, and even after consuming all his coffee, he still finds himself exhausted—as if drinking coffee this entire week of finals suddenly made him build up a tolerance to it and its effects.

But then he thankfully manages to arrive at the airport without passing out.

He parks his car and then walks inside, eyelids drooping and back hunched over as though he’s moments away from collapsing and sleeping on the floor. Inside, it’s much warmer than it is out, and Armin pauses to revel in the warmth of the heater.

Then, his phone vibrates with a text, and he pulls it from his pocket to view the message from Eren, telling Armin of him and Mikasa’s whereabouts. Armin sighs, and then pockets his voice again, bracing himself before he finally drags her feet forward to find his friends.

  
  
  


And then when he _does_ find his two aforementioned friends, he is greeted with a noogie.

“There’s my best bud!” Eren cheers, ruffling his knuckles through Armin’s hair. The latter cries out in surprise and as he tries to free his head from his brunet friend’s iron grip, he notices Mikasa off to the side slightly snickering to herself.

“If I knew you were going to greet me like that, I wouldn’t have picked you up,” Armin groans when he’s finally free, trying to flatten the blond strands atop his head that have gone astray due to Eren’s incessant hair-ruffling.

Eren chuckles at the distraught blond, his hand reaching for his suitcase handle. “You love us,” he says.

Armin rolls his eyes and grimaces. “I wish I didn’t.”

Eren laughs again—way too goddamn enthusiastic for someone who’s up at 6 in the morning during their break.

“It’s nice to see you Armin,” Mikasa says, and Armin straightens as his eyes flicker to her. His grimace melting away to be replaced by a fond smile.

“It’s nice for you guys to be back.”

(Okay, so maybe they don’t annoy him as much as he’s been acting that they do.)

“Thanks for picking us up, again,” Eren says, just as they start walking to exit the airport and head to the parking lot. “I can’t thank you enough for being our impromptu ride home.”

Armin shrugs, and although a tiny part of him is sorely upset due to the fact that he’s up at such an ungodly hour in spite of how much he wants to sleep, he can’t help grinning at his two best friends. “You owe me for getting me up so early in the morning,” he says, pointing an accusatory finger at the two of his friends.

Eren stiffens, but then forces a smile and sticks his chin out in a jerky nod. “Heh… right… sure.”

Armin gives him a skeptical look. “Relax, I’m not asking you for money.”

Eren relaxes after that. “Oh, phew, alright then.”

“But you still owe me!” Armin reminds.

Mikasa snickers, and then nods. “Right, Armin—we got it.”

As they exit the airport, Armin tells them to wait at the pickup zone as he rushes to head to his car and bring the vehicle over. He can’t help thinking about how he really did miss them, and during Eren’s time home during the beginning of the year, they hardly spent time together. Although at first it was implied that they could all hang out since Eren was home earlier and for much longer than intended (due to failing one of his classes), they only truly hung out a handful of times because typically the brunet would be trapped home studying for make-up quizzes and attending online-summer classes.

But during their other breaks, they spent plenty of time together, and hopefully the same will be said for this break as well.

As he pulls into the drop-off zone, he places his hand on the horn to honk at them, but then pauses when he sees Eren… grabbing Mikasa? _Is he…_ Armin thinks to himself. _What is he doing?_

His large hands are on her waist ( _is he hurting her?_ Armin initially thinks), but as the blond pulls up closer to them, he notices that Mikasa’s arms are wrapped around his neck as well.

_Is she choking him?_

Armin slowly presses on the gas, his car steadily rolling forward, and as he nears his friends, he soon realizes that Eren is hurting Mikasa, nor is she hurting him.

Their faces are pressed together and-

(He’s a bit slow, but he gets there.)

“Oh,” Armin says as he slowly (finally) puts the pieces together. He swallows, and then his face goes red. “They’re kissing.”

He doesn’t register that he had been leaning forward to gauge what his two friends had been doing until his elbow knocks against the steering wheel and his car honks. He squeaks in surprise, backing away and sitting up properly as Eren and Mikasa both jerk apart, seeming as bright red as Armin.

The blond clears his throat, shaking his head before he sighs and rolls the passenger window down. He pulls up next to them, and then leans across his seat for his voice to be heard. “I’m gonna pop the trunk,” he says, hoping they don’t notice the waver in his voice. “You guys can put your stuff in the back.”

They both nod—Eren a bit _too_ enthusiastically—before obliging and making for the back of the car. They both then haul their suitcases into the trunk before climbing inside, Mikasa seemingly more red than Eren. Armin clears his throat, deciding not to mention it because it, ultimately, isn’t his business.

 _If they want to tell me, then they would,_ he tells himself. _I shouldn’t force them to say anything_.

And so they talk about everything that matters and doesn’t matter as Armin drives. When Eren dozes off halfway through the ride home (it seems his energy has finally been drained), Mikasa and Armin lower their voices to hushed whispers as a means of not waking the brunet.

“He knocked out quickly,” Armin comments with a grin.

Mikasa nods slowly, leaning forward from where she sits in the backseat and perching her elbow atop the armrest console, resting her cheek on her fist. She tilts her head slightly to face Eren’s sleeping face, reaching out to push his brown bangs back.

Armin peers at her through his peripheral vision, and he lights on, albeit a bit belatedly, the way Mikasa looks at Eren.

She looks a bit fonder of him.

Of course, the way she looks at Armin is fond as well, and that’s mainly a given due to the fact that they are close friends and have been since childhood.

But the way she looks at Eren is… different. It’s as though the brunet’s presence has softened her hardened exterior. 

(Armin thinks he recalls Annie viewing him in a similar manner before, but he isn't too sure. So he stuffs the thought away before he can truly consider it.)

The way she just combs his hair out of his face just seems so rhythmic and gentle—Armin can’t help wondering if maybe this is routinely for her.

“You must look after him a lot,” Armin decides to say.

Mikasa goes rigid, as though caught in an action she hadn’t realized she had been doing, and when she turns to Armin, he notices the pink in her cheeks.

“Huh?”

“Remember in elementary school,” the blond begins. “When Eren would always get chewed out by the teachers for being too rowdy, and when he got detention once, you stayed with him after school and told his mom that you guys missed the bus not because he was in detention but because you had to do something.”

Mikasa nods slowly and smiles slightly, backing away from the armrest to sit properly. Her hand retracts from Eren’s face almost hesitantly, and Armin notices the way her eyes linger on a spot on his forehead.

“He got angry that time,” Mikasa adds with a snort. “Said I didn’t always have to look after him. It seems like every time I tried to help him, he got mad.”

“You did kind of smother him at times,” Armin says, tittering.

Mikasa gasps at him, mock horrified. “You’re not supposed to say that,” she groans. “You’re supposed to reassure me.”

Armin laughs more, though it’s only when his laughter fades does she get serious. He watches as Mikasa’s smile fades and her once fond expression soon becomes replaced by one showing obvious trepidation. “Do you think I still smother him?”

Armin tightens his lips, thinking it over for a moment before he shrugs. “I think, sometimes, you get too scared.”

Mikasa’s brows furrow. “I’m worried about him, that’s all. You’ve seen the type of trouble he gets himself into—I’m just scared he might hurt himself-”

“That’s not,” Armin cuts in, very slowly, “what I’m talking about.”

Mikasa, not having caught on to what he’s trying to suggest, cocks a brow at him curiously. “Huh?”

“I’m not saying that you’re scared about what might happen to him, I mean, you’re too scared about what might happen to yourself.”

Mikasa’s brows furrow once again. “Are you implying that I only care about myself?”

Armin shakes his head. “No, no,” he sighs. “I’m not exactly sure how to put this into words but… you _do_ care about him, of course. But I think you’re just… too scared of losing him. That’s maybe why you have the tendency to try to protect him.”

The girl’s expression relaxes. Armin observes her as her brows unfurrow and her lips part as her eyes go wide, his words finally clicking in her mind.

She turns away, face warming slightly as she sits back, and Armin refocuses on the road ahead. He can tell that she’s thinking this over, and that she’s not exactly upset about what Armin implied, but more so surprised—as though she’s made a revelation.

That is what love truly is, isn’t it? It’s about cherishing the other person—wishing for their safety and their happiness. And sure, Mikasa was a bit protective at times and didn’t let Eren have his own freedom, but they were young, and she was just scared and unsure of how to deal with the concept of possibly losing him. She ultimately wanted the best for him—that’s a given. It just so happened that the end didn’t seem to justify the means.

Armin can’t help thinking back to when he had fallen _hard_ for Annie—when he had endured so much torture just for her comfort. Thinking back to those times leaves a bitter taste in his mouth, as though he has been poisoned by his own memories.

But love isn’t just wanting the other person’s happiness too. You have to cherish your own heart too if you truly want to cherish theirs.

  
  
  


(“Hey,” Mikasa says as they pull into Eren’s neighborhood. “Did you… uh… ever smother somebody for the sake of love too? Or am I just overly protective?”

That last part is meant to be a joke, probably, so Armin chuckles at it. “You’re not overprotective,” he reassures her. “But… yeah. I did.”

Mikasa cocks a brow at him. “Really? Who?”

Armin smiles bitterly as he pulls up next to Eren’s house. “Myself.”)

  
  
  


Armin’s stomach growls on his way home, and after a few minutes of contemplation, he decides to pull into the nearest cafe—the one by his college campus. _I’ll grab something tiny,_ he tells himself. _Like a muffin, or something._

_Then, I’ll finally go home and catch up on my precious sleep._

* * *

“Can I get one black coffee and one breakfast sandwich?”

“Alright, what name should I have that down for?”

“Annie.”

“Okay, Annie,” the cashier says, ringing up the order. “We should be ready with your meal in ten minutes.”

Annie nods and pulls out her cash, handing it to the cashier as she’s handed her receipt. She pockets the tiny slip of paper as she drags her feet across the cafe towards one of the chairs in the corner where practically nobody is.

It isn’t just empty in this one corner though—the entire cafe is deserted save for the two grown men seated at the table by the door, eating with one another in silence. The only reason why this cafe is so empty, in spite of its popularity in this particular part of town, is because it is _fucking early_.

Annie’s brain had woken her up at this ungodly hour mainly due to the fact that it had been so adjusted to getting up this early, and when she failed to go back to sleep, she decided, _fuck it, I’m just gonna get up_.

And so now she’s here, at 7:45am, in this cafe donned in nothing but her pajamas.

The door opens, and Annie—curious as to who else might be up this early—peers up to find… Armin entering the cafe.

_Why is he…?_

The blond hasn’t seemed to notice Annie’s presence yet, since he just continues to go to the front desk and order his meal, though it’s after that when he finally notices her. He turns, their eyes lock, and a moment of silence passes between them before Annie scoots over in the booth she’s in and taps the spot beside her, as if offering it up to him.

He silently understands—soon, he’s seated next to her, and although they haven’t even shared one word with each other yet, it is still comfortable.

“With how much you’ve been complaining about finals, I’d expect you to be asleep right now,” Annie finally says, breaking the silence.

“I could say the same for you,” Armin snorts. “ _I_ have an excuse—I was picking up Eren and Mikasa from the airport.”

“Ah, I see.”

“And you?”

Annie sighs, grimacing as she remembers how her brain had jerked her awake at the ripe hour at 7am. “I woke up early,” she decided to answer. “And my brain wouldn’t let me go back to sleep.”

“Hah, sucks for you,” Armin teases.

“Shut up,” Annie groans in misery.

She scoots across the booth towards the edge, turning to press her back up against the wall and pick her feet up, hugging her knees up to her chest. Armin watches as she gets comfortable, his blue eyes observing her every movement before they land on her pants. He grins.

“Are those cookie monster pajama pants?”

Armin flushes bright red. “Shut up,” she murmurs, looking away.

“And—” Armin chokes around a laugh, “—is that _my_ shirt?”

Annie’s eyes blow wide, and she peers down at herself, finding that she is, in fact, wearing Armin’s shirt from the camping trip. Believe it or not—she has yet to return the article of clothing.

“Don’t judge my sleepwear choices, mr. socks-with-sandals.”

Armin gasps dramatically, bringing a hand up to touch his chest where his heart beats. “You wound me,” he gasps.

Annie snorts. “You had it coming the minute you made fun of my pajama pants,” she says. “Which are amazing, I’d like to add.”

“If that’s what helps you sleep at night,” he chuckles.

Annie shakes her head just as a titter rolls out of her, turning her head away just as silence settles between them again. Being with Armin fills her with a sudden, familiar warmth that has her forgetting her earlier irritation from being unable to sleep.

Armin stares at Annie for a moment, and as he does, the recollections of this morning come back to him—of his conversation with Mikasa.

(‘ _Do you think I still smother him?_ ’

‘ _I think, sometimes, you get too scared._ ’)

And then, he starts to wonder if he had ever unintentionally done that with Annie.

“Hey,” he blurts before his brain realizes what he’s doing. Annie turns to him. “Did you ever feel _smothered_?”

The girl curiously cocks a brow. “Did I… what?”

 _Ah fuck, I shouldn’t have asked._ Armin sighs. _Oh well, too late now._ “I mean, during our friendship. Did you ever feel like I was… I don’t know, smothering you? Like, holding you back?”

Annie’s brow raises, probably still confused but maybe also intrigued by this question. “No, I never have. Why? What brought on this question?”

 _Because I used to be madly in love with you, and I’m worried I may have accidentally hurt you without realizing it,_ Armin doesn’t say. Instead, he goes bright red at the prospect of ever saying such a thing, and he turns away quickly, hoping Annie doesn’t notice the color flooding his face.

“No reason,” he replies, though his voice wavers.

Annie blinks. “Really?” She deadpans, disbelieving. It’s no surprise—Armin has never been a great liar anyway. “Are you sure?”

Armin nods. “I was just… curious.”

Annie hums in response, but then shifts from her seat, and when Armin turns to her, he finds the girl scooting towards him, backing him into the corner of the booth. “Reeeeaaallllyyyy?” She asks, cocking a thin, blonde brow.

“I-I—”

“I don’t know, Armin. You’re looking kinda red right now. You sure it wasn’t anyth—?”

“Order for Armin and Annie!” A voice calls from the front of the cafe.

Armin sighs his relief, thanking whatever God is above for saving him from this situation.

“That’s us,” he tells Annie, shuffling past her to climb out of the booth. His legs are jello. _Fucking christ. I should_ not _have asked that._

Annie follows after him and they both grab their orders, though as they’re walking out of the cafe, the color doesn’t drain from his face.

“I’m just gonna assume it wasn’t anything,” Annie then says as they stand in the parking lot where they’ll have to part ways.

Armin sighs his relief. “Yeah—it wasn’t anything serious anyway.”

“Oh, it _was_ something,” Annie says as she points an accusatory finger in Armin’s face.

Armin rolls his eyes, but smiles nonetheless. “You’re annoying.”

Annie lowers her hand and brings her black coffee up to her lips. “Aw, that’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

 _God, I can’t believe I’m in love with this woman,_ Armin thinks.

 _Was,_ he corrects himself. **_Was_ ** _in love. I can’t believe I_ was _in love with this woman_.

“Well, I’m gonna head home now and finally sleep,” Armin says.

Annie nods. “Have fun with that.”

“You have fun _not_ sleeping,” Armin taunts, causing the blonde to give him a glare that holds no real contempt.

They make to part ways, but Armin pauses and catches himself before he leaves. “Oh! Uh, Annie,” he says. “You going to Eren’s house this Monday?”

She turns to him, and he watches the consideration flicker across her features before she nods slowly. “Sure.”

Armin smiles at her. “Alright. See you Monday.”

“See you.”

Armin turns and heads back to his car, and after he clambers into the driver’s seat, he sighs and leans back in his seat.

_Fuck._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kinda cliffhanger-y????
> 
> I've been thinking about it a lot lately and you know what? I feel like _most_ of the issues should be resolved HOPEFULLY before ch 30
> 
> IM SORRY! BUT I TOLD YOU THAT THIS IS A REALLY REALLY _REALLY_ SLOW BURN SOOOOOOOO YOU REAP WHAT YOU SOW

**Author's Note:**

> If I take too long to update a chapter, you're welcome to come bully me on [my Tumblr!](https://mea-s.tumblr.com/) :D  
> Or, ya'know, you could send me words of encouragement but _ew_ who even does that nowadays??
> 
> _(imjokingplsdontbullymeihaveaweakhearti'llcry)_
> 
> edit: I now have a [Twitter](https://twitter.com/im_meaSs) where I post about my future updates and other matter(s) concerning my fanfic. But I mainly just goof around on there tbh lol


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